


Under all silences

by MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, January quote, MFMM Year of Quotes, Mystery, e.e. cummings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13535508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/pseuds/MissingMissFisher
Summary: Detective Inspector Jack Robinson faces intense scrutiny when the Victorian Police Force deals with increased public pressure as news of police corruption is sensationalized by the press. What will Jack do when he discovers the Honourable Phryne Fisher is implicated in Murdoch Foyle’s escape from prison?(Set during the timeframe between S1 x 12 and S1 x 13)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just getting in Chapter 1 just under the wire!
> 
> Since I missed out on so many of last year's challenges, I couldn't let 2018 start without an attempt at contributing something for this year's quotes challenges. I decided to use the expanded version of one of the quote prompts as well as another that encompass this story much more fully. 
> 
> P.S. Huge thanks again to the fabulous OllyJay for helping me weave in this idea I'd had knocking about for awhile now in conjunction with the e.e. cummings quote challenge. And much love and hugs as always to ComeAfterMeJackRobinson for reviewing and encouraging me to continue with it!

 

 

 

> _“Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself._ _To be nobody-but-yourself —in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”_
> 
> ― e.e. cummings
> 
>   
>    
>  _“Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere_ _  
> _ _force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star...”_  
>    
>  ― e.e. cummings

 

The crescendo of the singing cicadas was lost on the lone occupant of the unremarkable motorcar tucked into an otherwise quiet side alley in St Kilda. On account of the extremely late hour, any passerby would have quickly lost interest after one glance at the driver who seemed oblivious to his nearly undone tie and completely unfastened waistcoat. On top of all this, the fact he was hunched over the steering column rubbing his eyes and then raking his fingers through his now unruly locks indicated someone who may have had one too many pints that evening.

It was just as well then, perhaps, that no one did spot him because Detective Inspector Jack Robinson normally would have been appalled if anyone were to regard him in anything less than his customarily pristine appearance. Or to find him in such a rumpled state at that time of night and in this particular locale where he had parked his car after driving off barely a few minutes earlier. At the moment, however, the stalwart officer of the law was too immersed in mulling through the overwhelmingly intensive events of the day and evening he just experienced to worry about something mundane as his attire.

No, for someone accustomed to unravelling heinous deeds by all manner of criminal elements or taking command of situations that would weaken many a lesser person, Inspector Robinson found himself still succumbing to his innate sense of honour and duty even though he was technically off the clock. At least, this was what he was trying to convince himself of as he finally allowed some of the screaming emotions he could usually master and hide to escape now that he was all alone in the dark. Or not quite alone, he thought as his eyes again peered towards one particular window that still softly glowed on the upper floor of the notable Italianate-style house he could view clearly from his vantage point. A slight shadowy movement from behind the curtain proved his suspicion that the room’s inhabitant wouldn’t be getting any sleep this night either.

He knew the more sensible course of action would have been to follow through and drive back to his own residence, which he had begun to do after reluctantly departing from 221B The Esplanade. Even with the night duty constables he had dispatched to stand guard by the front gate and the side entrance, however, Jack was loathe to leave. Especially after having discovered how a maniacal killer had just managed to infiltrate the household of the Honourable Phryne Fisher and then escape from it practically right under their noses. How tempting (again!) it had been when Miss Fisher, still arrayed in her exotic Queen of the Nile costume, had offered the use of a guest room after finally convincing him to give up combing the surrounding area. Though he knew she was right, he had automatically refused from a combination of both gentlemanly and constabulary principle.

But, he knew that _she_ knew the truth of how close he had come just earlier that evening to tossing aside that official mantle of propriety he usually swathed (hid?) himself in to give in to her entreaties to surrender to ‘one gaudy night.’ Especially now that he was at liberty to do so having just arrived at her cousin’s engagement party straight from the courthouse where the ink had barely dried on his divorce papers. And he had been so close to giving in despite all the months of self-constraint that he had thus far displayed...and he knew that _she_ knew this. That she had seen through to the depths of his inner turmoil. And the knowledge that she had and could so easily pierce his protective shields now formed the basis of his heart and mind’s current chaos.

As luck would have it, he longed to be able to talk through his broiling thoughts with her as he had grown accustomed to sharing theories about his (their?) latest case. In fact, he could have stayed there in her kitchen doing so all through the night even though she was and indeed had been the cause of upending his concentration so much of late. And that was precisely the reason why he had fought to listen to his trustworthy inner voice of reason and bid her good night after ensuring that she and her household were securely guarded.

So, why had he not been able to drive off completely?

Mercifully, the tension of the entire day and evening eventually took its toll just as he saw the soft light in the window across the square go off. With the hypnotic buzz from the insects lulling him to surrender to his exhaustion, Inspector Robinson slumped against the vehicle’s window and slipped unwittingly into the Land of Nod.

*-*-*

Jack startled awake just as the sound of tapping echoed through the fog of his semi-consciousness through the window where his face was half-buried against his fedora and the glass pane. He struggled against the grainy texture of his eyelids as they stubbornly peeked open to reveal Phryne Fisher standing on the kerb on the other side of his motorcar’s door. She wore an impish smile that semed incongruous with the sombre black materials of the outfit she had chosen for the day whilst holding a cup of something steaming. With a slight groan, he flopped against the steering wheel in an attempt to hide himself as she swung the door open and a rush of fresh air, grass and her unique fragrance washed over him.

“Hello, Jack!”

He had to clear his parched throat when his first attempts at responding were to no avail. He then felt her free hand perch on his shoulder, which caused him to rotate his head enough again in her direction where he came face-to-face with the tantalizing cup of tea.

“There’s more where this came from,” she informed him as he reached out to gratefully grasp and then sip from the cup that she still held. “In fact, Mr Butler has started preparing a feast of a breakfast that I insist you partake of before you go anywhere else.”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” he managed to engage his vocals again after the hot liquid refreshed them. “But, I think I had best be off so I can tidy up before getting to the station…”

His voice trailed off suddenly when he more felt than saw the slight shift in her sunny demeanour. It was then that he noted the dark circles beneath her eyes that she had mostly been able to expertly mask with cosmetics. What stopped him in mid-sentence, however, was the deep-seated shadows still lurking within her eyes that she might be able to hide from everyone else. Jack suspected that she had evidently, and unsurprisingly, not been able to sleep or rest at all from the unsettling events. And how could she when the man responsible for her sister’s disappearance and now, the multiple deaths of innocent people, was at large? Instinctively, he ignored the demands of custom and heeded the need to follow his gut reaction to the moment by coaxing his aching limbs to maneuver himself out of the vehicle.

“Then again, Miss Fisher,” he easily adapted their habitual bantering tone as he stretched slightly, working out the kinks in back. “Seeing how rare it is to see you out and about at the crack of dawn, I think I should make the most of this historic event alongside checking in on my men and telephoning for a fresh changing of the guard.”

Phryne rewarded him with a dazzling smile before reaching out without a word to reverse her handiwork from the previous evening. She managed to do up the buttons of his waistcoat and knot up his tie in the time it took him to reach for his hat. They both stilled for an interminable moment as the space between their bodies inevitably disappeared as it always did whenever they found themselves within the other’s orbit. He managed to tear his eyes away from the magnetism of hers at the sound of a door somewhere closing loudly. She then calmly took his arm after he turned to close his own motorcar’s door and they set off across the small square towards her house.

“Why _are_ you up so early, Phryne?” Jack couldn’t help asking her when he noticed her tensing again as they neared Wardlow, his concern causing him to forego his usual stance to not address her by her given name.

“I couldn’t really sleep so gave up towards dawn and decided I may as well get ready for the day,” she admitted to him easily. “Besides, I wanted to speak to Jane and Mr Butler again as soon as I could to find out more about what happened last night.”

“And did you?”

“I will as soon as Jane is up, poor darling was so worried even though we kept assuring her it wasn’t her fault. Dot stayed with her in her room to help calm her down.”

“Of course it wasn’t her fault,” Jack quickly agreed. “And thankfully, Mr Butler was there.” He revisited his mental note to take the older gentleman aside for a full briefing on the household’s security measures. Not that he wouldn’t have done so with Phryne, but he didn’t want to add to her concerns over Jane at the moment.

“Then, since I had also noticed that you hadn’t left after all last night, Inspector,” the lady detective squeezed his arm and somehow managed to shuffle herself even closer to his side as they walked. “I decided you might want to join the discussion. And be in need of some sustenance before you start your day.”

Before Jack could reply, a familiar taxicab careened around the corner and pulled up short just as the detectives had reached Wardlow’s red gate.

“Morning, Miss Fisher!” Cec called out happily as he hopped out of the cab first. “Hello, Inspector.”

The two of them greeted the cabbie just as Bert quickly jumped out of the vehicle and hollered his curt greetings.

“Morning, miss, have you seen the news?” He then began to brandish what appeared to be the morning’s fresh of editions of several newspapers.

“What news?” Miss Fisher began to ask curiously as she and Jack made their way closer to the red raggers. Bert began to mutter a litany of curses under his breath as he handed two of the publications over.

“Oi, Bert!” Cec admonished as Phryne grabbed hold of the first one, and unfolded it so that she and the inspector could see the headlines of that day’s edition of _The Argus_ :

  **CONVICTED CRIMINAL, MURDOCH FOYLE, ESCAPES PRISON AND AT LARGE**  

That in and of itself was not news to the pair who continued to skim the article rapidly with Jack growing more and more indignant as he wondered how the upstart reporter had found out so much confidential information about what had happened...and so quickly!

Phryne had then reached for the other, small newspaper, if one could call it that, after handing _The Argus_ to Jack. She continued to read whilst he was internally ruminating until she gasped audibly, the newspaper starting to slip through her frozen fingers from the shock of what she had just read.

“Miss Fisher?” Jack, who had been began to read over her shoulder, quickly reached his arms around her to both steady her and grasp hold of the paper when he felt her begin to shake. Although he wasn’t sure whether it was from fear or anger. “Phryne, what is it?”

“Miss?” Cec immediately enquired as he turned worried eyes towards their friend and employer before glaring at his partner. “I told you we should have waited until we were all inside.”

The two ex-wharfies then glanced towards Inspector Robinson whose grim expression forecasted a veritable storm as he read the accompanying article beneath the second newspaper’s fold with Miss Fisher still in his arms.

“I agree, let’s get inside,” Jack confirmed as he suddenly slapped the newspapers against Bert’ chest. He then kept one arm about Miss Fisher’s waist and gently prodded her down the front walkway towards the house. She was still too caught up in her own mixture of reactions to notice.

“I usually could care less what anyone prints about me, Jack,” the cabbies heard her tell the inspector. “But this? That editor is going to be hearing from me and the full meaning of slander and libel!”

“Let’s just get inside first, Miss Fisher,” he replied, “and then we’ll get to the bottom of it all.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Cec muttered in an accusing tone. “This don’t bode well.”

“Not like I wrote the bloody thing!” Bert spat out without losing his chewed cigarette. “But yar, seems like we oughta find out who did. Or, at least whoever had the bloody cheek to leak Miss Fisher’s private matters to the bloody press.”

“You think?” Cec responded as he gave up trying to refold the paper before giving up and stalked towards their cab where he threw it through the open window into the back seat. “Let’s get some grub first.” He waited impatiently for Bert to dispense of his cigarette before they trailed after the others.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the motorcar’s window and ruffled the bottom half of _T_ _he Daily Star’s_ front page. It revealed a photo of the former professor named Murdoch Foyle alongside one of the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher with the headline:

**BARON’S DAUGHTER SUSPECTED OF AIDING AND ABETTING CONVICTED CRIMINAL**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets put under pressure as news about Miss Fisher's implicated involvement with Murdoch Foyle reaches his superiors.

With one final check in the side mirror’s reflection, Inspector Jack Robinson gave his newly chosen tie a wholly unnecessary tug before climbing out of his motorcar. He reached the familiar door to City South Station within minutes, but glanced down at his wristwatch anyway to confirm that he was just over a quarter of an hour late for his shift. One of the very few positive remnants from his experiences as a soldier was the ability to make himself presentable within minutes.

“Good morning again, sir,” Constable Hugh Collins immediately greeted Jack perfunctorily from his post at the front desk. The younger man had readily accepted the explanation that his superior officer would be slightly delayed that morning after being briefed fully on what had happened the night before. Hugh was, in fact, horrified and then extremely worried about Dottie, but the inspector had quickly reassured him that she, and all other members of the Fisher household, were absolutely fine. Since Foyle had cut the household’s only telephone wire, Dot had not been able to telephone Hugh directly until the cabbies had been dispatched to quickly find a replacement shortly after breakfast.

Collins had been slightly confused at first when his sweetheart had informed him that Inspector Robinson would speak to him after his boss had finished eating breakfast with Miss Fisher. But then, the ever loyal constable naturally assumed that the inspector would have returned that morning to personally ensure himself of everyone’s well-being after a cold-blooded murderer had managed to have himself invited right into their very home. Besides, Hugh felt quite chuffed that Inspector Robinson had enlisted his help in sorting out the station’s guard duty schedule to ensure the ongoing safety of everyone at Wardlow around the clock.

“Morning, Collins,” the inspector replied, and was about to continue on through towards his office when he glanced over in time to see the younger man’s eyes widen in a mixture of hesitation and expectation. “Is everything all right, Constable?”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” Collins began to stammer before lowering his tone and glancing down the corridor. “Erm, you might like to know that the deputy commissioner is waiting in your office to see you, sir.”

“Oh? When did he arrive?” Jack immediately enquired, his face and voice betraying nothing but his usual professional demeanour.

“About fifteen minutes ago, sir,” Hugh reported. “I knew you were due in at any minute so didn’t want to bother you at Miss Fisher’s when he had telephoned here earlier looking for you.”

“Of, course, thank you, Collins,” Jack again schooled his features to betray nothing of his thoughts had his superior officer actually contacted him at Miss Fisher’s house so early in the day. Not that he had to report his off-duty whereabouts to any of colleagues, by any means. But the fact that the deputy commissioner had been trying to reach him, and was now here waiting for him in his officer, however, definitely didn’t bode well. Jack nodded at Collins before moving past the front desk and pausing only briefly as he approached the slightly opened door to his office.

“Good morning, sir,” Jack grounded out his greeting out stiffly after clearing his throat loudly and closing the door behind him. “What brings you out to City South today?”

Deputy Commissioner George Sanderson rose to his feet just as Jack rounded his desk and waited expectantly for an explanation of the older man’s presence. Sanderson also cleared his throat as the awkward realization hit him suddenly that this was the first time he was face-to-face with the man who was now officially no longer his son-in-law. His daughter, Rosie, had agreed with her father’s recommendation to keep the divorce proceedings as low-key as possible in order to evade any hint of public scandal. Unfortunately, the gossipmongers had been speculating and tongues had been wagging enough as it was despite all of their attempts to be discreet.

As a result, George had not been present at the courthouse yesterday, although he had been briefed about the grand finale after Rosie had come by to have dinner with him afterwards. Overall, the deputy commissioner was relieved for his family’s sake that it was all legally over now. As a father, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed again that his daughter had had to endure so many wasted years without even a grandchild to show for it. On another level, however, Sanderson also knew better than to throw the blame entirely onto the shoulders of the stubborn young man standing before him. For whatever may have been Jack Robinson’s shortcomings as his daughter’s spouse, George still regarded him as a good man and an excellent police officer. Shame that he still persisted on turning down any hints or actual offers of promotion.

“Inspector, I’ll cut to the chase then,” Jack’s former father-in-law began in an official tone, conveying the fact that this was not meant to be a personal visit. “I wanted to come and inform you directly that there’s to be an investigation commencing shortly due to public pressure and demands for the force to account for Senior Sergeant Grossmith’s unacceptable conduct during that recent circus case you solved.”

“Yes, I was already aware of that, sir,” Jack replied, trying not to reveal his true reaction to the inadequate description of Grossmith’s ‘unacceptable’ conduct. The bastard’s greed and corruption had resulted in the death and the ruin of innocent lives. “I’ve been asked to be interviewed in order for the panel to take a fresh statement.”

“Excellent.”

“But assuming that you would have already known this, why would this investigation merit a personal visit? You could have easily updated me via the telephone.”

“Yes, well, I had thought to do so and did try to reach you earlier,” George paused significantly. “But, you were unavailable.”

“My shift has only just started,” Jack pointed out as he kept his frustrations reigned in even though he knew Sanderson would have been able to acquire these basic details from his secretary at the force's headquarters.

“I tried to telephone you at home, Jack,” the other man lowered his tone slightly. “Several times, all morning. So, naturally, when I couldn’t reach you there, or here, I began to worry and wanted to reassure myself of your well-being.”

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly, not so much from the other man’s seemingly paternal concern, but more from wariness over Sanderson’s true motive in being there. After all, he had spent nearly two decades in close proximity to the man and had learned all of his tricks to influence others and expect them to bend to his will, often for his own gain. Sadly, Jack had also experienced much of the same from his daughter.

“Why are you really here, George?” Jack decided he had had enough and just wanted the other man to state his purpose and leave.

“All right then, Jack,” Sanderson agreed. “As part of this ongoing enquiry and investigation, I wanted to inform you ahead of time that we will also have to question Miss Phryne Fisher. She’s a self-styled, so-called ‘lady detective’ with whom I believe you are acquainted?”

“Yes, she was instrumental in solving the case implicating Grossmith,” Jack reminded Sanderson, wondering why he had to repeat information from the thorough and detailed report he had submitted to Russell Street mere days ago. “In fact, Miss Fisher has proven to be of invaluable assistance to the constabulary’s case clearance rates.”

“You mean, your clearance rates,” Sanderson stated. “Which, of course, is to be commended.”

“However….?” Jack knew there was more to the other man’s tone.

“However, Jack,” the deputy commissioner leaned forward to punctuate his next words. “I need to ask you to please stay away from her now. For the sake of the constabulary’s reputation especially, not to mention your own.”

“I should think that you, of all people, know my thoughts about my so-called reputation, George.”

“Jack, you must sever any connection with this socialite immediately,” Sanderson persisted. “Your association with her has now become a major conflict of interest.”

“Whose interests, exactly?” Jack tried hard to not spit his words out.

“Look, we’re still not sure how the press go wind of this, but Miss Fisher has been implicated in Murdoch Foyle’s escape. It’s now further eroding the waning trust in the police, especially with the investigation into Grossmith.”

“So, you mean to tell me that the top brass is willing to use Miss FIsher as a convenient scapegoat? In order to shift the attention from the very real corruption recently exposed amidst our ranks because of some ridiculous and unproven allegations by a tabloid rag?”

“Not completely ridiculous.” The deputy commissioner’s tone again grew official. “We know that Foyle was in contact with Miss Fisher directly before his disappearance. That he explicitly requested she rescind her objection to his parole in exchange for supposed information about her missing sister.”

“Yes, I’m aware of her visit to the prison,” Jack grudgingly admitted as the seriousness of the situation began to sink in. “As well as of this letter. But I also know that she didn’t act on it.” He didn’t feel the need to go into detail about how he knew this or that he had watched her burn the horrible missive with him as witness in the privacy of her parlour. His detecting instincts instantly began to whir as Jack silently wondered how Sanderson became privy to this information.

“Then you know, as well as I do, Inspector, that that is grounds enough for us to be forced to suspect her motives. She has a long history and connection to a convicted criminal and murderer who happens to be roaming free among the citizenry of our city!”

“With all due respect, Deputy Commissioner, that is not concrete evidence that she in any way corroborated in his escape!”

“That is why you must cut any ties with her on both a professional or personal level,” Sanderson instructed before softening his tone. “Jack, you know we need to follow procedure and objectively follow this lead through like any other.”

He continued in the wake of the inspector’s stony silence. “Phryne Fisher is the only person with the means as well as the motive to aid in Foyle’s escape. And until we can rule out any proof that she did or didn’t, you need to forget that you know her.”

And with that, Deputy Commissioner Sanderson left his former son-in-law to ponder on this latest turn of events. Jack knew that what George had said was logical, and in the interest of the constabulary’s reputation, justice, and not to mention his own job, he ought to heed his superior’s orders. But, how could he simply cut off all ties with Phryne, just like that? Especially after she nearly lost her life due to that scoundrel Grossmith’s attempt to silence her? And the fact that Foyle very nearly harmed Jane right in her very own home? That he was out there even now planning god knows what other evils on innocent citizens that Jack was bound by his conscience and his badge to protect?

Jack sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands. His mind knew what he was expected to do, but deep down, some other innate compass was pointing him towards another course of action quite entirely. And that gut instinct had led him well during his early days of navigating the police force and since his quick rise through its ranks as well as preserving any scant hope to be found in the bloody fields of France. It had also been instrumental in acknowledging a hollow marriage from which he and his former wife were now free. This inner sense of direction had never failed him yet thus far in terms of guiding his personal or professional choices in life.

A sudden knock on his office door broke through Jack’s reflections just as Collins hovered momentarily in the doorway.

“Pardon me for interrupting, sir, but Miss Fisher is on the telephone requesting to speak with you. Apparently, there's something urgent that you need to hear about.”

“Thank you, Collins, please put her through.” Straightening up with fresh resolve, the inspector reached for his telephone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne discovers that she is being followed and decides to investigate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a bit longer than intended to finalize this next installment...RL (e.g., mainly work and family) getting in the way again ;) Hope you enjoy and thanks for taking the time to read and tell me your thoughts!

The Honourable Phryne Fisher gave in at last from attempting to glean another word from the book she had been squinting at as she enjoyed the remainder of the day in her side garden. She rose gracefully to her elegantly-clad feet, clasping the book to her chest, whilst pausing to watch the last tendrils of the summer’s sunset unfurl across the clear expanse of the evening sky. Suddenly, the book slipped through her grasp as she frantically swatted away at some insect or other that had dared to swerve its course close to her now bent bare head.

Just as she did so, however, the lady detective took a surreptitious glance sideways through the curtain of her hair and over the top of her well-trimmed hedgerows. As she suspected, the faint glow from a cigarette that still appeared from time to time across the road confirmed her unwanted shadow still existed. She then knelt down as though to retrieve the novel, using her movements to peer intently through the bushes to confirm what she had suspected throughout the day.

In fact, it hadn’t taken her long to notice that she was being watched and followed. After breakfast, there had been a brief council meeting with her household to go over the events of the night before during which both Jane and Mr Butler dutifully recounted everything they could remember about Foyle’s ‘visit.’ Jack had then taken his leave, but, not without reiterating strict instructions for everyone to be on the alert for anything suspicious and to report it immediately to one of the officers on duty.

The inspector’s departure was followed by the ringing of Wardlow’s brand new telephone. Aunt Prudence was on the line, having just seen the papers during her breakfast. Phryne had rolled her eyes as she held the receiver to her ear. She wasn’t the least surprised to learn that Guy and Isabella had decided to make up for their ruined party by booking themselves into the Windsor for an indeterminable time. After asking how her cousin Arthur was faring, Phryne had then endured her aunt’s tirade over the ruin of her perfectly planned party and the recurring threat against her family members.

The societal matriarch had then lamented over the tizzy that that blasted tabloid had set off with its ridiculous allegations against her niece. In fact, Phryne was rather exasperated that she had to spend the majority of the conversation reassuring her frantic aunt that Inspector Robinson had undertaken appropriate precautions for her household’s safety. She reassured Prudence that she had already started looking into this latest mystery in which she found herself so deeply embroiled. Phryne had even reassured her aunt that she planned to meet with her trusted solicitors to seek their legal opinion on the matter. Eventually satisfied that her niece seemed to have the situation under control, Prudence reluctantly began to wind down her diatribe.

“I suppose I may as well admit, my dear,” her aunt sniffed in one of her begrudging tones, “that it’s moments like these that make me feel rather grateful for the close connection you hold with that dour inspector of yours.”

“Indeed, Aunt P?” Her niece had arched an eyebrow slightly, curious by her aunt’s uncharacteristic admission. “I’ve always deeply valued Inspector Robinson’s presence and assistance.”

“Yes, well,” Prudence had told her fondly before hanging up. “I never thought I’d say this, but I do sleep so much better knowing that if you continue to insist on chasing after criminals like you have been since your return to Melbourne, then at least you’re not doing it on your own.”

Afterwards, it was whilst Phryne had agreed to a stroll with Jane that the lady detective had experienced the sensation of being watched. There was nothing in particular that made the man driving the nondescript, black motorcar stand out other than the fact she had recalled seeing him already that morning. It was just as Jack had left Wardlow. Her partner was nearly at the gate when he had spun around momentarily to touch his hand to the rim of his hat with one of his rare lopsided smiles tugging at his mouth. After Phryne had beamed a smile back at him in return from where she still stood on her doorstep, Jack had then righted himself only to barely collide with a couple strolling past arm-in-arm. The woman, who had been wearing an expensive black and red embroidered jacket, had smiled in response to the inspector’s profuse apologies before tugging at her partner’s arm to pull him further along the path in the direction of the foreshore. That same man who was now driving past her and Jane as they sauntered down the pathway.

Wanting to test her theory, Phryne had then told Jane that she had forgotten to inform Dot about something pressing and the two women had instantly swung about to retrace their steps back home. It wasn’t until they had returned and Phryne had then walked into the parlour heeding her tingling intuition to see the same man reappear. Only, this time he was on the other side of the square and had settled onto a park bench next to a large tree with a newspaper before lighting a cigarette. She had then sped to the telephone in the hallway and was waiting for her call to be put through to Jack before she even realized it.

Now, she wondered whether she had been too hasty in contacting the inspector so soon after he had left, and after he had spent (or attempted to anyway, bless the dear man) the night keeping watch over her household. She had immediately thought that Jack had sounded off for some reason, slightly more restrained than usual, as he listened silently to her suspicions about the mysterious man. He had sounded a bit more like himself after she had also informed him that she had discovered some of her writing stationery had gone missing. But then, he had seemed to hedge his response after she had invited him to come over for dinner later so they could go over everything in more detail then.

“Well, that is very kind of you, Miss Fisher,” he had told her rather formally. “But, I, er, shouldn’t like to impose so soon again on your generous hospitality.”

“Fiddlesticks, Jack, I absolutely insist!” She had then paused, trying rapidly to decipher the reason behind his reluctance. “Unless, you already have other plans, Inspector? After all, I wouldn’t want to continue monopolizing your valuable time.”

“No, no,” he had quickly reassured her with a bit more of the familiar nuances in his voice that she had grown rather partial to. “It’s just, there have been several new...developments here at work that are keeping me bound to my desk. Would it be too late to join you instead for a night cap?”

“Never!” She had vehemently reassured him at the time, her incurable curiosity wondering what these ‘work development’ of his could entail.

Now, it was nearly around the usual time when Jack would have normally arrived for what was beginning to become their customary night cap. But they usually shared one to celebrate the end of another case. Perhaps, that was it. Maybe Jack was still feeling awkward about things since her attempts at persuading him to join her in ‘one gaudy night.’ Had that really only been the evening before? If, however, he was still being extra conscious about being seen with her on social terms only, why had he come to Guy and Isabella’s party (and straight from the divorce courts more or less as she had been able to ascertain from unwitting Hugh)? And then stay the entire evening, albeit in his car outside her home? Or maybe, he was trying to keep his distance as a result of all these absurd allegations being thrown at her?

Suddenly, rubbing her hands along her bare arms to ward off a slight shiver, Phryne decided Jack was simply still held up at the office. She then chastised herself for moping about like some lovesick school girl. Honestly, the turmoil of Foyle’s return and her sleepless night were simply getting to her. Pushing aside her pointless thoughts, she ignored the presence of her unwanted guest across the square and resolutely marched back inside in search of something to warm her up from the inside out.

But, eventually as the clock announced the passing of another hour, the inspector was still nowhere to be seen.

*-*-*

Phryne startled herself awake the moment she felt herself slip into the numb unconsciousness that her body finally succumbed to when all her senses finally gave up from sheer exhaustion. She told herself that it nothing to do with the telephone call that she had received barely half an hour ago from an extremely apologetic-sounding Jack.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Fisher,” he had begun their brief conversation, “but you will have gathered that I will not be able to enjoy your wonderful company even for a night cap tonight, I’m afraid.”

“I understand, Jack,” she had tried to reassure him without revealing the gnawing sense of disappointment that she had been avidly ignoring all evening. “You must be working on an extremely busy case then. You know you can always rely on me to help lighten the load?”

There was a moment’s tangible silence that Phryne scolded her treacherous mind to respect.

“Phryne…” he hesitated just as the husky register of his voice caressing her name nearly made her want to swoon (honestly, what was happening to her lately?). “I truly want to tell you all about it, and I’ll try. But, please trust me when I say that I can’t at the moment.”

“Are you all right, Jack?” She did begin to worry when she sensed something else was going on that she realized he was unable to reveal over the telephone. “Shall I come see you at the station tomorrow instead?”

“No, er, I mean, you could if you would like, of course, but, I’m afraid that I won’t be here.” His cryptic response only made her want to rush over to City South in that very instant in order to wrangle everything straight out of him.

“Jack Robinson, where on earth will you be then?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fisher,” he managed. “All I can share at this point is that I’ve been asked to take a few days’ mandatory leave out of town at the behest of the deputy commissioner. Starting tomorrow morning.”

His tone became worried when he realized he had succeeded, at such an inopportune moment, to render her completely speechless.

“I really am sorry for the short notice, Phryne, please do forgive me. I’ll keep you further informed as soon as I’m able. I promise.”

“Good night then, Jack.” Not having much other choice, she couldn’t quite hide the reluctance and disappointment from her tone before replacing the receiver on her telephone.

Now, chastising herself for lapsing into sleep, the lady detective adjusted her black beret and straightened the outfit she had chosen for her self-appointed vigil from the shadows of Wardlow’s balcony. Rising quietly from the wrought iron chair she had managed to move into the shadows, Phryne still felt on edge from her earlier conversation with Jack and everything else so that the restlessness had driven her to return out of doors. Peering out slightly from behind the house’s front column, she was gratified to not spot the telltale sign of the cigarette across the way. Even so, her senses remained alert when she still felt the tingling sensation of being watched.

 _This is utterly ridiculous_ , she suddenly decided, _and it ends now!_

And with that, the intrepid lady detective pressed herself back up against the bricks of her beautiful home. Sparing a glance towards her still lightly lit bedroom window, she edged along the wall until she was on the far side of the house no longer facing the front. Quickly searching up and down the quiet and empty street down the side of 221B, she quickly made her way towards the back where she easily knotted the rope she kept in a secure box securely to the balcony (one simply never knew when one might need an alternative exit after all). Vaulting over the side, she grasped the rope and quickly slipped down over the side and eventually landed onto one of Mr Butler’s well-tended flowerbeds.

Making a mental note to apologize to the dear man for squashing one of his long-blooming dahlias, Phryne crossed the street and used her neighbour’s hedgerows for cover as she tried to hone in on the eyes still insistent on watching her house. Edging along the topiary, she hid behind a parked automobile and focused her senses on the grove of trees nestled along the square just a bit further down from where she had found Jack holding his nightwatch vigil over her and her household only the night before. She then skirted the corner of her neighbour’s property and headed in the opposite direction just further enough down the street so that she could cross it without being seen by anyone from either the square or anywhere near Wardlow.

She next slipped down an alleyway and headed back towards the direction of her home, but now from one block behind. Taking the pathway behind the row of houses, she then stepped quietly into the small, park-like square whilst keeping to the shadows of the nearby trees. No one else was about as all the residents of her street were most likely tucked up in bed by now, or should have been.

She was just about to dart in the direction of one of the park benches that was hidden by the street when her adrenaline spiked and rose to a crescendo, signalling that she was not alone. Anchoring her feet and bending her knees suddenly, Phryne whipped around in the dark and grabbed hold of her unsuspecting assailant. Using the momentum of his acceleration towards her, she pulled and rotated herself swiftly, swinging his not inconsiderable body mass over her shoulder and throwing him to the ground in front of her in a move that her Japanese Judo instructor would have applauded.

Unfortunately, he had managed to grapple her in the process, which resulted in her tipping off balance. With a loud curse, she landed straight on top of his chest and struggled against the arms that still grasped her tightly. Indignantly shaking the hair that had loosened from her beret out of her face, she tensed her muscles and readied herself for a well-aimed move against the intruder’s groin when she instantly froze. The Honourable Phryne Fisher again found herself speechless as she stared into an all-too familiar, exasperated expression belonging to none other than Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack catch up. Alone in his car. In the middle of the night...

Phryne’s eyes widened in a mixture of bewilderment and relief that began to uncork all the emotions she had been wrestling with all night. Sensing the ensuing onslaught beginning to vibrate from her entire being, Jack quickly placed a finger against her lips to keep her from uttering a sound. She instantly stilled at his touch. He then shook his head vehemently and tilted his chin in the direction of the park bench she had been rushing towards. Phryne realized he was indicating that they might not be alone, and nodded to show that she understood. She then regretted showing her quick compliance at the loss of his warm fingertips that brushed across her lips briefly before he pulled his hand away from her face.

The two detectives remained still as their adrenaline-induced breathing gradually slowed. When it seemed that they were only surrounded by the cacophony of cicadas, Phryne took advantage of the situation to enact some swift revenge. With a telltale glint in her eyes, she pushed against Jack’s sturdy chest in order to raise herself just enough to wriggle her legs about in order to straddle him. His eyes flashed his protest, but the inspector knew better than to give her the upper hand. He also knew that under normal circumstances any verbal admonishments would normally have been pointless when it came to Miss Fisher. So, it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t have vocally objected anyway until he knew the coast was completely clear.

Making a spontaneously calculated guess, Jack released his hold from her waist and grasped her hips to pull her wiggling form even closer to him. Not expecting such a reaction from the normally proper inspector, Phryne’s eyes reflected her delighted surprise at his bold move. But before she could counter-attack, his grip changed and his long fingers began to tickle her sides instead. She found herself clamping a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud both at his attack to her ticklish spots and at the absurdity of their current situation. Jack then used the distraction to pull her back down against himself before propelling his own weight to the side. With the speed of their momentum, he rolled them both over against the cool, night-dipped grass until he ended up on top of her.

“Follow me,” he breathed into her ear before effortlessly springing up into a standing position, bending slightly to hold out a hand to her.

He tried not to smirk as he noted her disappointed pout that instantly curved into her habitual mischievous expression as she reached up to take his proffered, yet wholly unnecessary assistance. With another glance around the seemingly vacant square, Jack pulled Miss Fisher up to her feet and began to lead the way through a hidden gap in a nearby hedge. She glanced over in amusement when he gently let go of her hand and offered his arm instead with a gentlemanly flourish. His features settled into a dignified expression as though he were escorting her across a fine ballroom instead of through a dark alley with both of them covered in loose bits of leaves, grass and she dreaded to think what else.

Phryne eventually spotted his motorcar, which was tucked away in a different spot from where he had held vigil the night before. Sliding into the passenger seat after he had opened the door for her, Phryne noted with approval how their location wasn’t visible from her street, but still afforded a clear view of the square and the outline of her house beyond. She wondered if that meant he was planning to keep watch over her household yet again. But why all the subterfuge? Why hadn’t he just come over as planned so that she didn’t have to waste most of her evening wondering where he was? And why had he informed her that he was leaving town only to show up outside her home? The barrage of questions crowding her mind again reminded her of the disquiet that had been gnawing at her all night. Well, she hadn’t chosen unravelling mysteries as a venture because she was bored after all. The lady detective crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as soon as Jack had climbed into the vehicle and quietly closed the door.

“Jack Robinson, _what_ , pray tell, is going on? Especially after all that rigmarole you gave me this evening? You have a lot of explaining to do!”

“And I promised you that I would, Miss Fisher.” His deep voice amplified in the enclosed case of the motorcar. “And, it looks like I’m not the only guilty party here. Why, might I ask, are you prowling about at this hour with a questionable suspect on the loose?”

“Suspect? What do you mean? Have you discovered more about the gentleman in question who has been following me?” She immediately latched onto his wording before stopping herself. “And no, you are not diverting this interrogation when I asked you first, Inspector.”

“Well, for starters, he’s certainly _not_ a gentleman. But, of course, that wouldn’t dissuade you from haranguing off into the night in pursuit of him with no thought to the danger... ”

“Jack…” she stopped him in a huff of frustration.

“Ahem, right, my apologies, Miss Fisher,” Jack reluctantly reigned in his concerns and continued his explanation. “After you had telephoned me earlier today with your description about the bloke, I decided to do some further digging. Especially since there was something about him that jarred my memory.”

“You mean, right after you had nearly walked right into him and his companion this morning?”

He nodded his head and twitched his lip in the way she now recognized as his acknowledgement of her quick deductions. “Yes, he seemed vaguely familiar, although I knew I had never met him previously.”

“Hmm, so he must be connected to a past case somehow then,” she mused out loud. “But not one you were involved with personally?”

“Very close, Miss Fisher,” Jack rewarded her logical reasoning with a half smile before continuing in his ‘case’ tone. “His name is Martin Edwards, and he was a former police officer from New South Wales who was let go due to some classified circumstances.”

“Sounds promising, go on.”

“I discovered these details about Edwards because I’d already been verifying details of everyone involved with Foyle and Tizzard’s prison escape.” He watched her more closely at the mention of the fiend and hurried on when she didn’t seem to react one way or another. “Both for my own peace of mind, and because I’m due to be interviewed again shortly for this whole Grossmith enquiry.”

“Hmm, I can imagine that all this added press sensationalism has made your job more intense, Jack, especially for this enquiry.” She reached out a hand to squeeze his in a show of solidarity that made him almost dread having to reveal to her soon how close to the mark she was with her observation.

“Then, after you notified me about your suspicious shadow,” the inspector continued, “I made an immediate request from my contact at the prison that also included photographs of all staff and personnel working stemming from your last visit to Foyle.”

“Yes, that was when the governor had telephoned you,” Phryne tensed slightly, prompting Jack to tighten his hold on her hand. “After Foyle had written to me asking me to rescind my objection to his parole.”

Jack nodded before covering her hand with his other one as well, signalling that he had more to share that he was afraid she might find disturbing.

“Martin Edwards was a temporary guard at the prison around the time of your visit. He was also on duty and assigned to keep watch over Foyle the night that he and Matthew Tizard had concocted their elaborate plan to escape by faking their deaths. That’s what jogged my memory, the fact I had seen his personnel photo previously, and reviewing the file today confirmed it. He’s no longer employed at the prison and no one has seen or heard from him since then.”

“And now he’s following me? How dare he? We need to go find him this instant so you can arrest him, Jack!”

She began to turn and was about to open the door on her side when she suddenly found herself enveloped by a pair of familiar arms for the umpteenth time that night. At first, she struggled against him briefly in her agitation, but stopped when he instantly loosened his grip without releasing his hold completely. Phryne twisted slowly to face him again, lifting her eyes up towards his. All thoughts of rushing off seeped out of her as she willingly slipped back into their natural sense of gravity or whatever it was that always pulled them into one another’s orbit. A moment of deja vu assailed her as she realized they had found themselves in a similar place only the night before (was it truly only yesterday?) when she had been coaxing him into transforming into a Roman soldier.

He had evidently felt the same repeated moment of time as he gulped nearly audibly before releasing his arms from around her and moving back an inch or so whilst clearing his throat. His actions left her feeling rather bereft, and must have shown in her expression because he again reached out for her hand.

“I know you are more than capable of handling yourself, Phryne,” Jack spoke softly, but with a myriad of emotions buried within his eyes and tone. “But knowing there’s a crooked copper prowling about your home, who obviously knows the history between you and the bastard that he allowed to go free, doesn’t help me rest easily. Especially since I still have to go out of town first thing.”

“What? Where? And, why, Jack? I thought you were just saying that because you were wrapped up with something that you didn’t want anyone, especially the operator, to overhear? Is it for another case since you said the deputy commissioner is deploying you?”

“That’s somewhat true,” he conceded. “It’s related to all this extra scrutiny that the force is currently undergoing at the moment.” She nodded in understanding. “As well as with that other case that I’ve been dealing with…” He paused.

“You mean, your ‘most difficult case yet’?” she prompted, hoping he was finally going to share the details with her.

“Erm, yes, that’s the one,” he confirmed. “I just need to sort out a few more details for it, and so the top brass agreed to give me a few days leave to finalize it all. I’ll only be gone a couple days at most although, I admit that I hate to do so in the midst of all that’s been happening.”

“You just acknowledged that I’m more than capable of handling things here, Jack. You don’t have to take responsibility for everything in the entire world.” She reached up a hand to hold his face tenderly. But then, she swiftly removed it before crossing her arms in half mocking consternation due to his continual hedging. “But, how will I be able to reach you...in case something urgent comes to light?”

“Just leave word with Collins if anything major occurs since he’ll be able to contact me,” he instructed her. “I won’t have ready access to a telephone where I’ll be. I’ve already been home to pack, but wanted to come back because I didn’t like the idea of Edwards still hanging about even with my men on watch.”

“You should have come in instead of skulking about out here.”

“I thought it would be too late to knock. And just as I arrived, I thought I spotted him and rushed over to apprehend, well, who I thought was him when I detected movement at the edge of the square.”

“So I noticed, Inspector,” she trailed her hand down his jacket lapel in a smooth motion that made him gulp again. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in now? You’d get a much better night’s rest in one of my guest rooms before your early journey?”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher, but no,” he replied. “Now that I think we’ve scared Edwards away for the night, I think it may be best if I did return home for a bit of a kip before I head out on the road. I'll be in touch soon.”

She smiled at that tidbit of a promise, and then began to turn to make her way out of the car for the second time that night before he again stopped her with a gentle tug to her hand.

“At least allow me the honour of escorting you safely back home, Miss Fisher.” He quickly jumped out of his side of the vehicle and then ran around to open her door, again presenting his arm to her with a twinkle in his eye. She stepped out demurely and took it with aplomb.

“Well, if you insist, Inspector.”

“I do, Miss Fisher.”

As they genially made their way back towards Wardlow, neither of them noticed the dark figure silently backing away from one of the nearby hedgerows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless you all for your wonderful comments for this story and huge apologies again for its infinitesimal snail pace. I'm on annual leave this week so am hoping to hammer out another chapter (and perhaps even complete this)...but don't hold your breathe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The press strikes again...and Phryne has a plan.

“Keep your voices down, you two!”

Dot scolded the cabbies in a hushed tone that was accentuated by a threatening wave of the wooden spoon she was using to attack a bowl of some fruit scone batter. She evidently communicated her warning loud and clear since the red raggers immediately clamped their mouths shut. The two then swiftly doffed their hat and cap and seated themselves with considerably less commotion after having stampeded their way through the back door into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Dottie,” Bert mumbled with genuine contrition as Mr Butler placed a tantalizing frittata in the middle of the table. “We just thought everyone might want to see the headlines straight away.” He nodded at the newspapers that he had just stacked onto one of the empty seats.

“Miss Phryne is still resting, and with everything that’s been happening these horrible past few days, you two are not going to disturb her if I have anything to do it with it!”

“We also have some ‘goss’ that we picked up that might interest her,” Cec added significantly just as a knock sounded on the door that the cabbies had left open.

“Morning, Hugh!” Dot beamed at the sight of her beau. “Come on in and have some breakfast with us, we were just about to start.” She quickly moved to offer him a seat after he had responded with greetings to everyone in the room.

“Why does he get a sunny welcome, and we get the wooden spoon treatment?” Bert huffed as he shovelled a hefty helping of Mr B’s perfect concoction onto his plate.

“Maybe because he actually knocked first?” Jane pointed out matter-of-factly after watching the cabbies' exchange with a grin. Cec responded with a wink before taking a long sip of coffee, ignoring the glare of disdain from his partner.

“Good morning!” The sprightly tones reached them before Miss Fisher appeared in the other doorway wrapped in a newly acquired Chinoiserie-inspired silk robe. “Ah, and it looks to be a full house.”

She was met with hearty greetings all around, and beamed when her eyes alighted on the sole constabulary figure at the table.

“Did Inspector Robinson reach his destination all right, Hugh?”

“Morning, miss,” the constable chimed back with one of his shy smiles as he gratefully accepted a steaming cup of tea from Dot. “And, ah, I’m actually not sure yet.”

“Oh, of course, you’re only just on your way to the station,” Miss Fisher stepped inside the room and nonchalantly claimed a piece of toast from the plate Mr Butler had just placed at the head of the table for her. “Plus, we must allow for travel time. Although, I actually cannot recall how long he mentioned that it should take him to arrive.” Her eyebrows scrunched together whilst she cocked her head exaggeratedly as though she were intensely trying to recall what the inspector had told her of his itinerary.

“Oh, do you mean to his fishing hut, miss? I think it’s over halfway from here to the Yarra Ranges.” Hugh eagerly volunteered.

“That’s a good hour and a half drive or so,” Bert commented without looking up from the newspaper he had started reading. “Maybe two depending on traffic and who knows what as it’s all country roads once you get closer to the ranges.”

“Yar, that sounds about right. Alice’s cousin’s husband has an alpine cottage around there between Warburton and Lillydale,” Cec confirmed. “In fact, we’ve been meaning to head out there for a spell soon, I mean, whenever I could take some leave, of course, Miss Fisher.”

“How lovely,” Dot responded dreamily as she straightened herself up from placing the baking pan into the oven. “I’ve heard that the whole upper Yarra can make you feel like you’re in a fairy tale.”

“That’s what Alice said,” Cec agreed. “It’s become a ‘honeymoon town’ now according to her cousin.” He swallowed another bite of frittata. “Which is another reason I’d like to take her since we haven’t really had the chance to have a proper honeymoon yet.”

“I hope that you can take up Alice’s family’s offer soon, Cec,” Dot spoke wistfully as she looked over at Miss Fisher for confirmation only to find her dear friend and employer had turned white as the next batch of scone batter she was mixing up. “Miss Phryne? What is it?”

All eyes in the room immediately swept over towards Miss Fisher, who had still not uttered a sound. She was clutching at one of the newspapers, her tea and toast abandoned to the side, perusing the front page like her next breath depended on it. Once she finished, she dropped it and snatched up the next one. The others sensed the growing tension emanating from her and kept silent. Except for Mr Butler who had suddenly disappeared, the others rapidly glanced about at one another silently urging someone to break the spell.

“I can’t believe the lies they are printing! They’ve nuanced everything so that it sounds like real allegations have been made about me rescinding my objection to Foyle’s parole and paving the way for him get off the hook. It’s all poppycock, of course!”

Phryne’s hands began to shake slightly as her mind accusingly dragged her back barely a month previously when she had come so perilously close to considering that very thing. At the time, she had appealed to Mr Butler and Jack for direction and both men had stalwartly believed in her own ability to navigate back to true north. Suddenly, she had such an intense longing to hear the inspector knocking at the door to join them all. But, instead, he would now be miles and miles away indefinitely.

Mr Butler then magically re-appeared by her side with a crystal tumbler. “Perhaps a little something extra to fortify your tea this morning wouldn’t go amiss, at the moment, miss?” She smiled gratefully at him for his usually adept insight.

Jane then stood up and approached her guardian with her special brand of determination. “Don’t pay any mind to what they might be trying to say, Miss Phryne,” the girl reassured her as she gently laid a hand on Phryne’s arm. “We all know it’s utter rubbish.”

At the sound of her ward’s worried tone, Phryne immediately let the publication go to take her foster daughter’s hand. “Yes, of course, you’re absolutely right, Jane. I’m simply scandalized that the press seems to know too many intimate details and are choosing to cash in on my privacy just to sell headlines.”

“That’s also why we dropped by this morning, miss,” Cec interrupted gingerly. “Bert and me found out a possible golden lead about all that as that’s been bothering us so much too.”

“Go on, Cec,” Phryne prompted them as Jane returned to her seat and the others resumed their breakfast. “And thank you for taking the initiative to look into it on my behalf.”

“Not at all, miss!” The younger cabbie blushed. “It’s the least we can try to do to help out.”

“Basically, last night, we put the word out to see if we could find out who the snitch is out there, you know, the one responsible for leaking all your private doings to the world,” Bert launched into their method. “We pretended to have some info to tell, you know, as bait like.”

“Very clever, Bert.” Miss Fisher nodded approvingly buoyed by both the whisky and her adopted family’s support.

“And, it paid off, so far, anyway, ‘cause our mate, ‘Big Pete’ down at the wharfie pub done told us that some bloke by the name of ‘Stormy Normy’ might be interested.”

“But, he don’t ever meet up with sources face-to-face,” Cec continued to take up the tale. “Said it’s all arranged via dropped off notes, sounds real cloak and dagger like.”

“Excellent work, gentlemen!” Phryne praised them effusively as she quickly reached for one of the discarded newspapers. “‘Norm,’ you say? Sounds like that could be short for ‘Norman,’ and possibly, one _N. Peale_ whose byline has shown up again under the less savoury articles about me in the _Daily Star_.”

“So what now, miss?” Bert asked.

“Since you dangled the bait so well, let’s go do some fishing!”

*-*-*

Early evening arrived finding an extremely irritated Miss Fisher pacing her parlour, the evening edition of the news gripped in one hand and an empty cocktail glass in the other. The _Daily Star’s_ mysterious reporter named N. Peale had struck yet again with another damning and salacious article. She then crumpled the page in a mixture of fear and anger wishing she could burn it and every other copy out there. But, it was too late because the image of _that_ letter that would forever be emblazoned in her mind was now providing low-form entertainment to all of Melbourne and whatever godforsaken region this sick excuse of journalism reached. How did the publishers get hold of it though? She had destroyed the letter Foyle had sent to her with Jack as her witness!

The thought of her partner focused her rage onto the upstart writer who had had the audacity to make unfounded allusions to her connection with the Victorian Police by naming and questioning her connection to one Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. It was certainly one thing to drag her name and reputation through the mud. But now, it went beyond the pale for them to be questioning Jack’s credentials and integrity! She was both relieved, yet frustrated by his absence from town as a result of this latest smearing by the press.

Feeling suddenly dizzy, possibly from this latest article that had her reeling and drinking on an empty stomach, Phryne dropped onto the nearest chair, emptied her hands and then hunched over to rub at her throbbing temples. For the rest of the day, she had remained strong as usual for the rest of her household after the others had also glanced through the news sheets. She had taken Dot and Jane out for a brief shopping trip to take all their minds off all that had been happening, but the fact they were being followed quickly dampened that idea. By evening, they still had not heard anything new from her solicitors or Bert and Cec’s lead.

Phryne then realized that she was feeling extra out of sorts because she had come to rely on Jack’s ready listening ear so often of late. And she felt rather concerned at how much she was missing his quiet reassurance now that she couldn’t avail herself of his presence. She knew that he was facing his own internal and external pressures at the moment and felt momentarily guilty for wishing she could continue to burden him with her own. One tiny part of her also couldn’t help wondering whether his absence was for personal reasons involving her and Jack’s desire to distance himself from the unwarranted attention intruding into his normally private life.

Phryne suddenly shook her head resolutely. Right, if there was one thing she refused to be associated with, it was wallowing! Springing up, she then marched out to her entry hall to telephone Mac at the hospital hoping to invite her dear friend over so she could pour out all her anxiousness. She had to admit that things were taking their toll as she tried to deal with her continued fear of where or how Foyle might strike next alongside facing the press and public’s suspicions that she might have anything to do with it. Unfortunately, Mac was booked in for a double shift that evening.

“I don’t like any of this one bit, Phryne,” the doctor lamented. “And now you’ve got this other suspicious character prowling about your place too? And I’m concerned about these absurd allegations piling up on top of it all. If I hadn’t committed to this double shift, I’d be right over, sweetheart.”

“Try not to worry, Mac,” Phryne had tried to reassure her friend. “I’ll manage just fine. Haven’t I always?”

“I suppose,” Mac grudgingly admitted. “I just hate the idea of you trying to shoulder all this on your own, especially with all that’s been going on recently. And how in hell did they get their hands on that creepy letter?”

“I don’t know, Mac,” Phryne confessed. “I told you I had burnt it after I had asked Jack’s opinion about it all.”

“Speaking of which, where’s that inspector of yours? Not that you need a man about or anything, but even I’ve come to rely on his sturdy presence when I can’t be there for you myself.” Phryne’s lips curved into the first, genuine smile all evening as she appreciated the significance of her normally skeptical friend’s admission about Jack.

“Oh, he’s had to go away out of town for a few days to deal with a few things.”

“What things?”

“He wouldn’t say, although we didn’t really have time to talk before he had to leave so unexpectedly because the deputy commissioner... Oh, someone’s at the door, Mac, I should let you go.”

“All right,” her friend reluctantly agreed. “I need to get back out to the maternity ward now anyway. I’ll be by soon as I can tomorrow.”

Phryne replaced the telephone receiver just as Mr Butler answered the door. “Good evening, Constable Collins. So good to see you again, do come on inside. Dorothy is upstairs at the moment, but feel free to wait one minute until I can go alert her.”

“Thank you, Mr Butler,” Hugh responded as he stepped inside and spotted Phryne who had just risen from her telephone stool. “But, I’m actually still on duty as it’s now my turn to keep watch out front. But first, I wanted to drop off this for you, Miss Fisher, before I started my shift.” That was when Phryne spotted the large brown-coloured envelope he was holding out to her. “It’s from Inspector Robinson.”

“Why, thank you, Hugh!” Her eyes immediately brightened as she stepped forward to accept the small package that she turned around in her hands. From its weight and size, it seemed to be a book. “Mr B, could you please make sure Constable Collins has a bite of something to eat before he takes up his post?”

She then returned to her parlour in a far improved mood than previously as she tucked herself into her window seat and eagerly opened the unexpected delivery. It revealed a burgundy leather-bound book. Turning it in her hands, she was intrigued to find that it was a well-read copy of Jane Austen’s novel, _Persuasion_. Out of habit, she brought it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. Feeling slightly silly, she revelled in the familiar scents it evoked of its owner: a combination of leather, paper and a hint of sandalwood.

The sound of Dot greeting Hugh in the kitchen caused her to instantly snap open her eyes and shake her head as she berated herself for her sentimentality. Her lips curved into an ironic smile as she pictured what Jack would say if he could see her and read her thoughts now. Knowing him, he wouldn’t have wasted the opportunity to make some witty remark. She then opened the book, glimpsing the inspector’s name neatly inscribed on the inside cover before the pages flipped over to display a small envelope with her name on it. She lifted it out to find it was marking the spot behind which bore some carefully underlined marks along the following section spoken by the story’s main protagonist, Anne Elliot:

_"Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so many, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can hardly have much truth left."_

Examining the piece of paper, she spotted a line of recently scrawled ink in Jack’s bold hand:

_My Dear Miss Fisher,_

_I have just finished re-reading this classic, and much of it brought you to mind. It is my hope you will appreciate the loan of it to take your mind off things and, perhaps, persuade you from borrowing any more trouble (or if any doubt creeps in) whilst I’m away for the next day or so. Please feel free to notify Collins should you need to reach me until my return. _

_Faithfully yours,_

_Jack_

“Oh, Jack,” she murmured as a well-spring of emotion bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Even now, with the underlined words within a book, he was able to reassure her with what she needed to hear at this very moment in time. She had, of course, read the story along with all of Jane Austen’s works multiple times during those long, dark winters after her family had relocated to England and she had eagerly scoured their new estate’s massive library for any source of entertainment. It would be interesting to read it now from her current perspective and experiences. Especially with this edition’s lender in mind. As she continued to run her thumb over the pages, she wondered why Jack would be reading this particular story at this amount of time. From what she could recall, it was Austen’s final novel and heralded for its poignant themes of second chances, the power of influencing, and long-suffering, but inevitably, triumphant love. Phryne leaned her head back against the window behind her as she wondered whether there was another message Jack might be trying to tell her by choosing to lend this specific story to her at this moment in time?

But, far from being put off, Phryne relished this cryptic mystery that Jack must have known she would take to like a dog to a bone, and she was grateful to him for knowing she’d need something else to distract her mind. She flipped through the book’s pages again when she discovered a smaller scrap of paper tucked inside the back cover just as she went to close it. Picking it up, Phryne read what looked to be a list outlining mostly items he wanted to pack and last-minute instructions to himself before he had to go away. The one thing that was different, however, was that he had left the details of the address of where he would be going just outside Warburton. Somehow, she instinctively knew that he hadn’t meant for her to find this note, but was utterly pleased it had found its way to her all the same.

“Dot?” She quickly rose and called out to her companion.

“Yes, miss?” Dot’s voice quickly responded from the direction of the kitchen where her faithful maid had joined her beau. “I’ll be right there.” After a few minutes, she then appeared at the parlour’s entry.

“No rush at all, Dot, but when you’re free, would you be a dear and telephone Alice for me please?”

“Of course, miss, what would you like to tell her?”

“Please ask her if she and Cec would like to go on their fairytale honeymoon...starting tomorrow?”

“Oh, miss, I’m sure they’ll be delighted since, as Cec told us this morning, it’s something they’ve both been hoping to do. I’ll go ring her up straight away.”

“Thank you, Dot. Could you also check to see whether they have any transport in mind?”

“I believe Alice mentioned that they were thinking of taking the train part of the way and then waiting for a bus at some point... It all seemed very complicated as the cottage seems to be in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, then, perhaps they wouldn’t mind being chauffeured there directly.”

“Oh, yes, that would make things a whole lot simpler. But, I imagine Bert would still need their cab to continue their rounds whilst they were away.”

“Of course! I was thinking more along the lines of them arriving courtesy of one lady detective and her Hispano Suiza.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning arrived with a burst of sunshine that Miss Fisher felt radiated from deep inside her as she eagerly pushed back her cocoon of silken sheets and rose much earlier than usual.

“Morning, miss, did you sleep well?” Dot knocked softly on the door before entering the boudoir with a breakfast tray. “Mr Butler sent this up so you’ll be well fortified for your journey. We’ve also packed enough for the trip and extra for your stay.”

“Thank you, Dot, what would I do without you?” her miss replied with one of her bright smiles. “And, yes, I actually did rest well for the first time in a while. And thank you again for looking after everything. And, despite what I just said, it means a lot that you’ve chosen to stay here with Jane whilst I’m away.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Phryne!” Dot was quick to reassure her as she added a few final items to Phryne’s small trunk. “I agree that it would be much better for us to remain here at Wardlow and keep an eye out on things. We’ll be fine, especially with the constables standing guard.” Phryne hid her smile at the younger woman’s comment since the lady detective knew that a certain constable had requested extra guard duty shifts.

“I have no doubt of your own abilities to defend the fort either, Dot,” Miss Fisher confirmed as she slipped into her carefully chosen outfit for the day. “In fact, I’m counting on them.”

“Thank you, miss!” Her companion beamed from the lovely praise before excusing herself to see to the rest of the preparations. “If there’s nothing else you need at the moment, I’ll just go check with Mr Butler that everything else is in order before you’re off.”

Phryne thanked her companion, and then picking up the steaming cup of tea Dot had just poured, she stepped over to the windows overlooking the front of the house and peered outside. Nothing and no one seemed out of place. She couldn’t help smiling to herself when her eyes swept over the square across the road and allowed the memories of her nocturnal encounter there with Jack to pleasantly distract her from all concerns of stalkers and reporters for a few delicious moments. Her household knew that she looked forward to updating him with all that they had managed to uncover thus far about the press allegations. Secretly, she hoped to uncover a lot more of this elusive and mysterious man once she had finally caught up to him.

“You won’t be the only one to enjoy some fishing, Jack Robinson,” she promised out loud before heading downstairs.

*-*-*

It all happened in a rush, but not a single detail was missed by the unobserved onlooker, soon as the dark ornate door of 221B swung open. The young girl wearing a pretty sundress that matched her happy expression was the first to exit the mansion. She strolled down the front pathway together with the butler who accompanied her to the fine vehicle that he had pulled up to the front of the house a few minutes earlier. The lady of the house sauntered out shortly after, dressed in another of her usually ostentatious ensembles complete with an enormous hat that sprouted long, waving feathers, most likely to shield her from the unusually warm day. Wearing dark sunglasses today, she nodded towards the current constable standing guard by the gate before stepping into the back of her motorcar. She then turned towards her ward who was laughing at some tale she was regaling the manservant with who then closed the door securely after his mistress was settled. He then climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out into the street with his passengers, most likely for another shopping jaunt somewhere ridiculously frivolous and expensive. A few minutes after they had turned a corner, another motorcar edged out from an alleyway and crept after them in the same direction.

The onlooker waited another minute or so before making their way towards the back and side of the house, glancing at all the windows. Bending down to inspect a shoe, they peered towards the house again just in time to catch another figure emerging from the back gate. It seemed to be one of the cabbies who were frequently about the place. Still pretending to fiddle with a shoe buckle, the observer eventually rose to an upright position at the right moment to watch the cabbie pause before jumping into the familiar black motorcar that stopped at the kerb briefly to collect his partner. The bystander remained still and in deep thought before changing course and quickly crossing the road away from the lady detective’s abode.

*-*-*

“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a lift, miss?” Bert frowned slightly after helping Phryne out of the cab before heading for the boot to unload her things. “It’s not far from here, I reckon.”

“No, not at all, Bert, I insist you head back to Melbourne sooner rather than later,” Phryne replied as she looked over at the holiday cottage she had booked for a few days. It was only about a half hour’s drive from where Cec and Alice were staying for the week. And judging from the map she had acquired of the area, it was well within walking distance of a notable collection of other cottages (and a certain fishing hut) frequently favoured by the upper middle class seeking to soak in the peacefulness of the breathtaking surroundings.

“Only if you’re sure,” the former wharfie agreed, knowing better than to argue with ‘the boss.’

“Thank you, Bert, I’ll be absolutely fine!” Phryne declared. “Besides, after being scrunched up in the motorcar, a good hike around this charming lake is exactly what I need.”

“Righto then, I’ll be back to pick you up sometime tomorrow  as planned. Hopefully, we’ll have heard back from ‘Stormy Normy’ or one of our other leads by then too. I’ll send you a telegram through Alice’s cousin in Warburton if anything comes up before then.”

“Thank you, Bert, that would be grand. And thank you again for driving us all out here.”

He doffed his hat in acknowledgement before driving off, leaving Miss Fisher to her own devices. She had, of course, ensured that her friends would be financially reimbursed for any loss of fares in order to pull off the ruse by using Dot as her decoy earlier. The less the press knew of her whereabouts these days the better as far as she was concerned, especially until she could get to the bottom of this current fiasco.

After a cursory glance about the clean and quaint cottage, Phryne grabbed the small basket that Dot had filled with a thermos of tea, a bottle of water, and a hearty packed lunch. Biting into an exceptionally crunchy apple, she closed the door and began making her way towards a trail she had spied through the window that resembled the one on her map. A welcome cooler breeze swept down to pull her along her route that led to some soft-looking grass and the clear water’s edge. It was easy to see why this was a hidden gem of a holiday-making spot. She could easily have enjoyed a nap along the banks if she didn’t have another destination in mind (at which point her activity of choice would be anything but napping).

*-*-*

The majestic mountains hovered in the distance, lending an impressive backdrop to the towering palms and redwoods rising up above the carpet of lush and leafy ferns indicative of the Yarra Valley. The soothing combination of it all provided a natural curtain effect around the still, small lake where a simple, yet sturdy wooden structure nestled itself along one far corner. The hut was reflected perfectly like a mirror until the calming image became agitated by a series of ripples from a wooden oar.

A lone fisherman pushed his way through the dark water, rustling past a collection of vibrant, white lotus flowers tinged in magenta that barely acknowledged his presence by floating out of the way and then springing back into position after he had passed through. They instantly brought to mind the woman who was never far from his thoughts of late with her extravagantly striking exterior that belied an easily hidden resilience. Far from any wilting blossom, she was the epitome of unscathed elegance that continued to bloom undeterred by its muddy and grimy environment. He knew that most people only saw the surface beauty and vivaciousness she always seemed to effortlessly exude in abundance, and that it was a natural expression of her fervent love for life despite its heartaches and horrors. Jack Robinson felt it was an apt comparison to think of Miss Fisher as the personification of the lotus flower’s remarkable ability to defy logic.

Reaching the middle of the lake, the inspector stilled his oars and thoughts and busied himself with preparing his fishing rod and lures. He had done enough mulling over the events of the past few days, and had been desperately avoiding confronting the jostling of emotions that they continued to evoke. Even now, he struggled with a bout of guilt for being able to escape briefly from everything, at least physically, to this veritable paradise. Unfortunately, he was unable to leave behind the mixed jumble of feelings he had been suppressing, and they all now vied for his attention.

And so, the inspector did what he did best, which was to examine the evidence so he could dismiss the rest. It was how he had learned to cope with it all eventually after he returned from the war, and it was what he still did now to help him process particularly difficult cases, experiences, or people he came across. Jack now applied this method as he swung back his rod and then released the line in a purposeful surge into the water.

The first set of emotions he examined ranged from a combination of shame, grief, and, he could now admit to himself, relief that came to a head at the federal magistrates court as he had followed the procedure to formally put an end to his failed marriage. Admittedly, the prolonged separation had already helped him to face the unavoidable reality that he and Rosie had reached the point where they were much happier apart than together. He had long ago accepted the disappointment that she and her family had come to view him with due to his insistence at foregoing any professional opportunities simply on the basis of added assumed status or power. The policeman in him still knew the deputy commissioner harboured high hopes for him in that regard, son-in-law or not. Ultimately, however, Jack now allowed himself the liberty to embrace the relief that the final divorce decree had brought to him in spite of the social stigma it also entailed. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this aspect of his now so-called ‘tarnished’ reputation didn’t bother him in the least. As far as he was concerned, at least he was able to offer this final gift, as it were, to his former wife so she could still find the opportunity to fulfill her many expectations with someone else better suited to them.

The next suspects in the queue of his emotional mysteries hid the complicated collection of feelings that mainly culminated in what he could only categorically describe as ‘perpetual frustration.’ And they all had to do with the Honourable Phryne Fisher. Jack had long ago acknowledged that he was constantly exasperated when it came to the intrepid lady detective. At first, he was annoyed over her lack of training and utter lack of respect for proper procedure. Then, he had become continually anxious over her complete disregard for her safety. Added to all this was the alarming development of his admiration for her that had mushroomed into attraction, and lately, something else as well. Deep down, he was aware that he was very close to endangering the ultimate breach of his privacy and vulnerability when it came to Miss Fisher. Without even realizing it, Jack knew that the lady detective was close to becoming the chief suspect for the unwitting and eventual theft of his very heart. The irony of it all was that the inspector also knew that she would be the first to denounce any hint of this level of attachment to another, especially a mere man.

It was just as well then that he was able to escape momentarily from her as well in spite of the immense guilt he did experience at so abruptly disappearing from her side during this crucial time when he felt she actually needed him. He never intended to do so this drastically, but the deputy commissioner had managed to exert his considerable influence at just the moment. It irked Jack to feel like he was a suspect when he was only trying to do his job by looking into this angle concerning Martin Edwards. Unfortunately, his requests to look into Edwards record with the New South Wales force combined with the extra queries he had made into all personnel at the prison had been flagged somehow (but unsurprisingly) to Deputy Commissioner George Sanderson. Since he had already graced the inspector with his presence, his former father-in-law had made pointed use of his telephone to inform Inspector Robinson that he was hereby requested to go on mandatory leave for the next several days. He was also not to reveal his whereabouts to anyone that did not absolutely need to know. When Jack had questioned the ultimatum, the inspector was given the explanation that the Victorian Constabulary required all staff members, especially of senior rank, to distance themselves from all other ongoing case work when involved in the matter of a major enquiry. Jack knew very well that this was another ploy by Sanderson to prevent him from pursuing his personal investigations… and to ensure he was far in proximity from a specific lady civilian.

On a personal note, Sanderson had had the audacity to suggest to Jack that perhaps he could also use this time to oversee the final proceedings of the sale of one of the Sanderson family’s holiday homes near Lillydale, which Jack and Rosie had part-owned. Technically, Jack was the main shareholder even though the house had been a joint gift to the couple upon their marriage. He also knew that he wasn’t required by law to give it up just because she was no longer his wife, or that the other share belonged to her father. But now that the divorce had become finalized and because Jack felt it wiser to relinquish this last remaining tie to his former in-laws, he had agreed to help sell the property and give Rosie his share of the proceeds. Thankfully, the actual paperwork would most likely be finalized by tomorrow with the estate agent in Warburton due to their waiting list of eager buyers. And so, Jack decided to take the opportunity to spend the rest of his mandatory leave by escaping to his sorely underused fishing hut. At least it was something of his that his former wife and her family had no connection to, since Rosie had never even visited it, having preferred her family’s more suitable holiday accommodations instead.

He briefly allowed himself to wonder what Miss Fisher would think of this spot, and just as quickly squelched the inappropriate thought. He had no right to be imagining what she might think of his hideaway because she would never see it. There was no way he could ever even dream of inviting her here, especially not alone. Besides, she would probably choose much more luxurious accommodations than some rustic hut with more excitement to offer than the back and beyond.

The sudden tension of his fishing line broke Jack from his thoughts and spurred him into action. He held onto the metal pole as it bent against what felt like a large catch, and began to quickly wind the reel to bring it in. He was just about to get a glimpse of his struggling quarry when the unexpected sound of an all too familiar voice floated across the lake towards him.

“Hello, Inspector, or should I say, Captain? Any room on that craft of yours for a stowaway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm ever so delighted and grateful for your patience and lovely comments, dear readers! I'm back from my holiday during which I didn't crack open a computer, I'm afraid.
> 
> Also, massive thanks are due to @disheveledcurls (whom I've been trying to lure into the MFMM fandom) for reviewing my draft! So glad you are beginning to fall under Phrack and Co's spell!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phrack all alone. In a rowing boat. And a fishing hut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Quiltingmom whose patience shall be rewarded with an extra long chapter full of Phrack fluff and banter. More of our fave duo and the mystery shall continue to be revealed in the next chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

“You’d better form a queue, Miss Fisher,” Jack called out, his voice echoing across the waters now being disturbed by the thrashing fish. “I’ll let you know after I assess the size of this potential addition first.”

Another unyielding tug of the fishing line (resembling the strong twinge somewhere deep inside him that he promptly ignored), nearly caused Jack to let go of the rod as he commanded himself to focus. Even so, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder to spy her unmistakable profile leaning nonchalantly with one arm against his wooden hut. In spite of the fierce summer sun beating down upon them, he couldn’t help admiring the immaculate vision she presented in the most practical outfit he had seen her sporting yet. The detective in him noted that her fedora and shirt resembled something that one of her red raggers would have chosen and wouldn’t have been surprised if this detail was intentional in order to give her tail the slip.

The sudden slack in the line caused Jack to curse under his breath as he had to concede defeat in the battle with the victorious trout. Pulling down his fishing rod, the inspector hefted a large sigh before giving into the inevitable interruption to his brief holiday. He then took up his oars and proceeded to navigate his way back to shore. Looking up, he saw her blink against the sunlight and his frustration seeped out of him even whilst her amused smile grew wider as he slowly edged the boat against the soft sand bank. 

“Hello, Jack! I’ve brought us some lunch,” she chirped happily as though her sudden appearance in the middle of nowhere was absolutely normal, and which in all actuality, was to be expected when it came to Miss Fisher. “And good thing too, since I see you’ve just allowed yours to escape.” 

That was when Jack noticed the basket she had magically procured, and which she tauntingly began to swing before his nose. Seeing how he’d only managed to gulp down some dry toast earlier that morning, Jack paused to regard her and the basket silently before holding out a hand in surrendered invitation. 

“Well, Miss Fisher, seems I may have room for a passenger after all,” he stated in a deadpan tone. “The cost of your voyage, however, might also depend on your ability to procure our dinner.”

“Done!” She flashed him an especially playful grin. “And so long as you don’t expect me to cook it!” Her smile widened in triumph when he reached for the basket and safely stowed it on the hull behind him. “Then it seems we have us a deal, Captain Robinson.”

“Welcome aboard, First Mate Fisher.” 

He shook her hand with mock solemnity even as amusement tinged his tanned features when she grasped his hand more tightly and swiftly climbed aboard. Soon as she was seated, Jack used an oar to push them offshore whilst pointedly ignoring her wiggling as she settled herself across from him. She eyed him devilishly, slowly edging her long legs straight out in front of her and right between his, being sure to tuck her boots beneath his seat. She then leaned back and tilted her head up, slowly closing her eyes in order to bask in the warm rays as he rowed them back out towards the centre of the calm lake. Jack eventually stilled the oars, and again took up his fishing rod, sorting through his gear for another lure to prepare for another attempt. He worked in silence for a few minutes, peering at her curiously from beneath his cap before accepting the situation with a slight shrug. 

Although Jack had learned to thrive on routine, especially from his earliest days at the Police Academy followed by his tenure as a lance corporal, he had also learned to hone his ability to adapt to the unexpected in order to survive the reality of his training. Admittedly, he never imagined having to continually implement this training with such regularity as a result of the woman now sitting across from him. On days like this, he could almost confess that he enjoyed her freight train modus operandi. However, he would also sooner take on extra paperwork than ever admitting it to her!

“I can sense that you’re holding back the urge to launch into interrogation mode, Inspector,” she commented without moving a muscle or opening an eye. “And before you make a mental note to berate dear Hugh, I was able to deduct your exact whereabouts without your constable’s assistance.”

“Oh, is that so? I’m truly all agog, Miss Fisher.”

“Well, you only have yourself to blame, Jack,” she stated cryptically. “Thank you, by the way, for the thoughtful note and book you left me.” 

“It was my pleasure, Miss Fisher.” He cleared his throat briefly, suddenly hoping that it hadn’t been too forward of him to lend her that particular tale. “Although, you really didn’t have to take it upon yourself to thank me in person.” 

Flashing him her customary saucy smile, Phryne suddenly sat up straight and leaned over to whisk the fishing pole from him as he puzzled over her remark. He watched mesmerized as she expertly swung the pole and then deftly released the line to an impressive length into the water before resuming her reposed position with the rod securely in her hands. 

“Do you know, I’d never ventured out to these parts before? Simply breathtaking! I can see why one could easily escape here.”

“‘What are men to rocks and mountains’?” 

“That sounds familiar.” She canted her head in thought whilst continuing to keep an eye on her fishing line. “Shakespeare?”

“Miss Austen again, as a matter of act.” Jack’s mouth shifted into his familiar side smile. “Whom I’m certain the Bard would consider to be another genius of English literature.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” she affirmed as she continued to gaze out at the serene surroundings. “And I’m not at all surprised why you must love it out here, Jack.”

“Perhaps you should wait until you’ve had the opportunity to experience its magnificent nightlife before deciding, Miss Fisher.” Then, realizing how his comment could be inappropriately misconstrued, he awkwardly added, “Just in case it doesn’t comply to your usual standards, I mean.”

“Oh, pish posh, Jack,” she tutted before springing upright again as the fishing pole jerked suddenly. “As much as I’ve grown to adore my creature comforts, you’d be amazed at some of the places where I’ve laid my head.” 

Jack simply lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgement without making any further enquiries as to where, and more importantly, with whom.

“I only had the opportunity for a cursory glance at my rented holiday cottage when I first arrived, and it seemed more than comfortable for a person’s needs.” She paused before arching her own eyebrow suggestively at him as she lowered her tone. “Or for two persons.”

That was when the detective instantly deduced the location of his misplaced list on which he had jotted the address of the nearby holiday cottages in case Collins needed to reach him. Why hadn’t he checked the inside of the book before passing it to Collins to deliver? He scolded himself for his lapse although he was quite certain she would have successfully unearthed the location herself in the end if she so desired. 

“Well, I’ve seen enough empirical evidence to suggest that you would thrive in any environment, Miss Fisher, including the untold wilds of the Yarra Valley.” 

And that brought him to the crux of his current internal enquiries. Why was she here? Thankfully, it didn’t seem that some recent catastrophe had motivated her to seek him out. In fact, he was relieved to note that her usual playful and flirty manner didn’t seem to be concealing anything urgent or troublesome at all. Given the highly tense events of Murdoch Foyle’s reappearance in her life and the scare they’d both shared at Jane’s near abduction, Jack was glad to see her relaxing and enjoying herself. He could even admit to himself that in spite of her propensity for constantly showing up uninvited to first his cases, and now, his holiday, he was grateful to have her company. 

The sudden jiggling of the line broke into the peaceful atmosphere.

“And on behalf of my empty stomach, I’m extremely grateful to witness you living up to your family’s name.”

She threw him a smirk saturated with smugness before pulling on the fishing rod and smoothly reeling in a mammoth-sized trout that she gladly swung over towards him. Jack grasped the squirming creature and worked skillfully to remove the lure and hook from its flesh before depositing it into the small ice chest he had brought onboard with him earlier. He then allowed himself another small, half smile to see that she had already baited the rod and had swung it out again before resuming her previous leisurely position. Jack leaned over the side to rinse his hands just as his stomach let forth an almighty growl that evoked a peal of gleeful laughter from his companion.

“Unless you happen to have hidden skills as a sushi master, Jack, I suggest you take a look inside the basket that Dot packed.”

Jack dutifully complied, pulling the basket forward and onto his lap as he assessed its contents. No doubt, Mr Butler and Miss Williams had prepared the contents with him in mind, which truly touched him. He then removed the carefully packed sandwiches and unwrapped one to pass over to Miss Fisher before he began to tuck into his own. This was far preferable to the dried biscuits he had packed for an afternoon spent on the waters. The two of them enjoyed the impromptu picnic without the need to break their shared tranquility with words. Around the time when Jack was blissfully savouring his second slice of Victorian sponge cake, Phryne had reeled in another sizable catch and sent the line back out into the quiet lake.

“It was one of our favourite ways to keep occupied back then,” she began softly, staring into the water as though it held a portal into her past. “We learned how to make our own fishing poles, and she was especially good at it. In spite of her deceptively petite size, she could haul in the biggest catches. I think we only managed to stay nourished during some of the leaner days because of our many forays to the river.”

Jack immediately knew she was speaking of her sister, Janey, whom he suspected was never far from her thoughts even though Phryne was so adept at masking it during her interactions with others. He felt honoured that she trusted him enough to share these precious, albeit bittersweet anecdotes with him. Without warning, a rush of righteous anger caused him to clench his hands at the weight of anxiety she must have been carrying as a result of Marigold Brown’s death, and now, this mess with the media dredging everything up again for her. 

“I’m sure she would have been every bit remarkable at everything she attempted… just like her older sister.” He quickly unclenched his hands and relaxed when he felt first her gaze and then her hand settling gently on his knee.

“Thank you, Jack.” 

He searched her eyes and his heart smarted at the unshed tears and untold edges of grief and fear that threatened to erupt from behind her normally exuberant exterior. Using his own gaze as a conduit for his own thoughts, Jack lifted his own hand to cover hers as a reminder that he was there to help her unload and share her burdens if she needed him. A slight breeze decided to join them at that moment, jostling their vessel a few inches, but neither paid any heed. Eventually, Jack reached out his other hand to brush back a lock of her tousled hair that had escaped from her hat. The haunted look instantly evaporated from her expression at the sensation of his simple gesture, transforming instantly into an unmistakably different expression of longing all together. Gradually, the space between them shrank further and further until he could feel the puffs of her rapid breathing against his face drawing his gaze to those magnetizing lips.

“Quickly, Jack!” 

The whooshing sound of the fishing line abruptly yanked the two of them out of their bubble along with the rod, which would have disappeared into the lake if not for Phryne’s lightning-fast reflexes. She whirled about and dove over the side of the boat to grab it with both hands, just as Jack anchored his feet against the boat’s floorboards before lunging over to wrap his arms around her tightly to prevent her from plunging overboard. The boat rocked precariously, and thankfully, it only took less than a minute before she had reeled in the culprit almost responsible for their near capsizing whilst Jack continued to hold her steadily.

“Remind me to bring you along to my next fishing expedition, Inspector Robinson,” she instructed him with a flick of her head. “You’re rather useful.”

“Um, thank you.” He then sheepishly unwound his arms from her waist, clearing his throat as he sat back onto his seat before handling the latest addition to their dinner menu. “Sorry, I was just trying to steady you.”

“Steady me any time, Inspector.” She then placed the fishing pole down on the wooden interior of the boat and continued to watch him grapple with the squirming perch. 

“Perhaps we should think about returning to shore now, Miss Fisher.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I think we have more than enough of a supply for our dinner later.”

“Roger that, Captain, very happy to return to being a ‘landlubber’ again.” She then smartly saluted him before settling back into her seat. 

Jack again took up the oars and began to stroke through the water back towards the embankment nearest the hut. Phryne jumped out soon as the boat hit the shore, and held the bow steady as Jack passed over the lunch basket to her. He then followed suit and busied himself with securing the craft to his mooring pole before dragging it further onto the land. After stowing his fishing gear on the front porch, he hauled the ice chest containing Miss Fisher’s bounty and ducked inside the modest structure. 

A quick glance about the main room that housed a single bed, a small table and set of chairs that he himself had carved didn’t reveal any sign of the lady detective. She also hadn’t availed herself of the tiny water closet. By the process of elimination, Jack headed straight through to the other door leading to the hut’s porch that was technically an overhanging dock that opened onto the lake. He put down the chest and leaned against the frame for several seconds, simply taking in the sight of her comfortably ensconced in his favourite rocking chair with the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ he had just started to re-read the evening before.

“‘You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure,’” she read out loud with a hum of approval before shading her eyes to look over towards him. “I think Jane Austen and I could have been kindred spirits, Jack.”

“Of that I have absolutely no doubt considering she was also known to be a lady of notable wit and intelligence.”

He then proceeded to bend over and began pulling off first his shoes followed by his socks, which he placed just inside the door. Phryne made no effort to curb her piqued curiosity and simply craned her neck to watch in surprise as the usually buttoned-up man before her began to roll up first one then the other leg of his trousers all the way up to his knees. Before she could comment, he disappeared back inside the hut for less than a minute before emerging with a knife and large tin. She continued to gape at him as he then proceeded to roll up his shirt sleeves before taking a seat near her feet and dangling his own over the dock’s edge.

“Unless you’d like to join me in gutting and cleaning your impressive catch, Miss Fisher, perhaps you wouldn’t mind desisting from burning a hole through my lacking attire and continue reading to me?

“Only if you’d be so kind as to return the favour later, Inspector,” she immediately agreed. 

*-*-*

The embers from the barbecue pit sizzled out and eked out their temporary existence with a fanfare of smoke after Jack made sure to thoroughly douse the final flames that had provided them with a sumptuous feast of roast fish. He then made his way back towards his hut where he rejoined Phryne who had long since escaped her own boots and stockings to dip her own toes into the refreshing lake waters. Neither felt compelled to break the spell of their idyllic environment, especially since they had somehow managed to enjoy their afternoon together without even one reference to anything pertaining to their current mystery. 

Eventually, Phryne drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around them before sneaking a glance at her partner who was still watching the remains of their bonfire. It felt absolutely wonderful just being there with Jack, the day having been a welcome gift of not having to deal with the evil culprit whose unknown whereabouts had been giving her and countless others so much grief. On his part, Jack found himself truly grateful for this unexpected opportunity to share his solitary sanctuary for the first time. He smiled softly as he felt her head suddenly nudge and then nestle against his shoulder as they continued to sit and bask in the peaceful moment with only the sounds of the flora and fauna to keep them company. But, like all good things, the inspector was also mindful that night was drawing in and their brief interlude might have to pause, not necessarily end.

“We should probably start thinking about getting you back to your cottage, Miss Fisher,” he suggested, “before it gets dark.”

“Have you already forgotten that I have eyes like a fox, Jack?”

He again felt his lips twitching in amusement as he recalled that very exact description that Constable Collins had included in his report from one of their earliest joint cases dealing with the Ballarat train murder.

“Not at all, Miss Fisher. I’m simply thinking of your comfort considering my humble hut only has a barely tolerable cot that I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to. I’m certain your cottage across the way must have one with much more to recommend it.”

“Why, Inspector, if you were angling for an invitation to come test it out with me, you only had to say.” She angled her head up to bat her eyelashes at him coquettishly before the unexpected onslaught of a yawn caught her off guard and she blinked several times.

“Phryne,” he intoned in a concerned tone. “I know you must be utterly exhausted from everything that’s been going on in the past few days alone. Why don’t you go inside and rest? I’ll keep an eye on the last of the fire, and then wake you up to walk you back to your cottage?”

“I suppose a little nap wouldn’t hurt,” she agreed, barely stifling another yawn, as she again burrowed her head into the convenient niche between his head and shoulder. “But, in a bit, I want to stay here just a little while longer first.”

Not one to be able to deny her such a simple request, Jack simply nodded, his arm coming up around her shoulders in agreement even though he began to struggle against the myriad of sensations assaulting him at her nearness. 

“Thank you for letting me stay, Jack,” she spoke softly, but he instinctively knew she was referring to more than just that moment. After all, far be it for him to attempt to sway her from doing anything she didn’t choose to do! “Today was exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“And what would that be? To go fishing and then use a policeman’s shoulder as a pillow?” He couldn’t help teasing her.

“Actually, Mac referred to you more as a ‘sturdy presence’ that even she had come to rely upon.” 

“Ah, I see,” Jack commented, suddenly discomfited slightly as he wondered whether he should be worried or relieved to know that the two formidable friends had been discussing him together. 

“I’ve learnt that one ought to follow her prescriptions very seriously, you know.”

“Very wise advice, Miss Fisher,” he confirmed. “I would never deem to disregard anything Dr MacMillan had to say.”

At her lack of response, Jack tilted his head to look down at her, and felt slightly exasperated, but mostly charmed to find that she had nodded off against his shoulder. The incredibly powerful urge to kiss her in that moment overwhelmed him to the point where he had to forcefully remind himself that such an ungentlemanly gesture would never do. Ironically, Jack knew she would most likely berate him for daring to steal a kiss at that moment only because she was not alert enough to participate. Instead, he managed to position himself in order to lift her up into his arms and carefully made his way back inside. In a few strides, he reached the cot where he carefully laid her down and gently draped the warm cover over her. She instantly curled up onto her side with a contented sound that again did odd things to his heart.

Shaking his head, the inspector respectfully left her alone to rest and returned outside to his rocking chair. His mind was too full to take up the novel they had been reading to each other. Instead, he reached into his satchel nearby and pulled out a pen and notebook that he used for non work-related notes. Tapping the end of the pen against one hand, Jack sat and pondered for awhile. And then, he began to write.


	8. Chapter 8

A sudden sense of urgency forced Jack’s eyes open, his cramped body scolded him profusely for having fallen asleep in his rocking chair. He ignored the pain and instinctively sprang alert and surged forward at the sound of a loud thump and then someone crying out in panic.

“Jack! Jack, where are you?”

 _Phryne_!

He refrained from responding audibly until he could be certain of her safety. Immediately whipping his head back and forth to scan the back porch, Jack decisively grabbed the little footstool before silently cracking the back door open a fraction to assess the situation. His eyes adjusted to the darker interior whilst his heart continued to hammer in his ears.

Just as quickly, relief slammed against him, prompting him to lower his makeshift weapon when he saw she was alone inside the hut. This was quickly replaced by concern as he recognized the fact that she was thrashing about and wrestling against some unseen foe.

“Phryne,” he called out gently, yet loudly enough for her to hear as he slowly approached. “It’s me, Jack, and I’m right here. You’re having a bad dream.”

“Jack?”

Her frantic movements paused momentarily at the sound of his voice before she began groping and kicking about against the covers entangled around her legs. He noticed that her eyes remained closed.

“Jack, hurry, he’s got her! We have to catch him, and get her back!”

“Shhh, I’m here now,” he soothed as he approached and knelt down by the side of the bed, reaching out to grasp her by her upper arms to alert her of his presence. “It’s all right.”

“Jack, we can’t let him get away!” Her voice broke into a heart wrenching sob that pierced him as he carefully wove his arms about her to hold her tightly to him, whilst still making soft soothing sounds. When she finally stopped struggling, he pulled back far enough to cup her face with his right hand, brushing his thumb against the tears staining her normally joy-filled visage.

“It’s all right, Phryne,” he continued to reassure her, willing her to open her eyes and flee from whatever trauma she was experiencing in her distressing dreams. “I’m here now. It’s only a dream.”

He felt her arms squeeze him tightly once she felt assured that he was substance and not imagination. Jack then maneuvered himself so he could slip onto the edge of the cot before shifting her full weight onto his lap, cradling her against him and making soft, comforting noises. Eventually, he could feel her heartbeat begin to even out as they clung to one another until she breathed out a ragged sigh against his neck.

“Jack,” she mumbled against his chest before drifting back off to sleep.

“I’m not going anywhere, Miss Fisher,” he promised her. Unwilling to leave her alone again, he simply held her until he, too nodded off.

*-*-*

For the second time in what felt like minutes (but was hopefully several hours), Jack felt himself being pulled from his sleep, but this time by a less frantic and more gentle sensation. He sensed a slight pressure against his lips that caused him to blink his eyes open only to find a set of very familiar blue ones watching him mischievously. Jac was instantly awake only to find himself curled up around one scantily clad lady detective who was happily nestled inside his arms.

“Morning, Inspector,” she replied in that particular tone of delight she seemed to always use when greeting him.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher.” His deep voice rumbled against the finger still resting against his lips.

“I find I must report to you that I’ve found your observations to be incorrect when it comes to your assessment about this fine establishment and its sleeping quarters.”

“Oh? I suppose I could be amenable to hearing any official complaints.” He couldn’t help twitching his own features to reveal the relief and happiness he felt at the sight of her welcome smile that lit up her entire face. The light of dawn creeping through the hut’s sole window revealed her tousled hair, as well as a tantalizing glimpse of the lace edging her light pink camisole. And that barely covered the rest of her that was tightly pressed up against his own rumpled shirt-covered chest. He tried not to gulp when her finger slid down his jaw and then reached his throat, especially when the wicked woman began to undo the first button she found. Jack immediately began to pull away when his manners caught up with him.

“Yes, I’m finding that this cot is certainly a lot more than merely tolerable. Especially in the morning.”

He eventually clasped his own hand around her wandering ones before they could inflict any further danger to his person.

“Well, as your host, I must say that it greatly relieves me to learn this, Miss Fisher,” he informed her as he continued to gently extract himself, smiling slightly at her pout. “And as my esteemed guest, I must apologize for this extremely unorthodox manner of waking up.”

“Nonsense, Jack! This has been nearly one of my most satisfying wake-up calls yet.”

“Only nearly?”

“Well, I can think of a few ways to improve it immensely, Inspector.”

At her seductive tone, Jack quickly swivelled his legs to the side of the cot and sat up with as much dignity as he could manage considering the circumstances. He remained perched on the edge with his back to her, gathering his equilibrium as her warmth and unique fragrance continued to cling to him.

“I’m sorry that you’ve found your visit has disappointed you after all, Miss Fisher,” he teased, glancing back over his shoulder just in time to catch the small frown creasing her brow. He then turned back towards her slightly, not able to resist running his fingers through a few loose strands of her hair and swept them away from her eyes, pausing when he noted the sudden uncertainty he found there. “What is it?”

“I do hope that you were able to get a good night’s rest, Jack.” He could tell from the tone in her voice that she must have just recalled her nightmare-induced struggle and how it might have disrupted his sleep. “Especially as I never intended to take over your bed like this.” Gone was all hint of innuendo as a hint of the terrible dream still tinged her eyes.

“I’m more than all right, Phryne,” he reassured her, reaching for one of her hands. “Why don’t you use the facilities whilst I go rustle us up some tea and something hopefully edible for breakfast?

“Kippers and toast?” She grinned at him.

“God, no!” He winced with a twinkle in his eye. “Even if we had the time for a morning catch, I think I’ve had my fill of fish for several days.”

“Are you absolutely certain, Inspector? Or maybe you’d prefer some duck instead? Do you own a hunting rifle?”

He tilted his head and gave her a sly look. “I was actually thinking along the lines of a cozy tea room in Warburton serving scones that could rival that of Miss Williams.”

“I find that highly difficult to believe, Jack,” she loyally countered. “But, as a good investigator knows, it’s always best to test a theory and not just rely on hearsay.”

*-*-*

Several hours later, the detectives were happily ensconced at a lace-draped table for two that was tucked into the bay window of a charming tea room off of Warburton’s High Street. In fact, Jack wondered idly if there was any spare inch of the place that hadn’t been enshrined with some bit of floral or lace material. He stopped fiddling with the edge of the extra frilly tablecloth when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye that prompted him to eye his partner warily.

“I did offer to order you your own slice, Miss Fisher,” Jack reminded her with an exaggerated eye roll as she decisively attacked an extra hearty portion of _his_ apple tart with her fork.

“I thought I couldn’t manage after those delightful scones, Jack” she confessed as she vanquished her spoil of war. “But I couldn’t help myself when your order arrived.” She then leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her tone to a breathless, sultry register. “And especially after witnessing your reaction to it.”

He purposefully ignored her in order to make some headway into the pie himself until she managed to navigate her fork just so. And somehow managed to nick another precious corner of the prized delicacy! His icy glare completely missed its mark as she had closed her eyes to savour the bite slowly.

“By the by, don’t let on to either Dot or Mr B that they have some stiff competition, especially should they ever decide to branch out and start their own cafe.”

“God forbid!” Jack agreed in alarm at the thought of losing either of them and their divine culinary skills to a venture of free enterprise as he quickly swallowed another biteful to reassure his belly.

Phryne hummed in agreement before leaning in for another attempt to invade and conquer the dessert. When the inspector encircled his plate possessively with his left arm and actually grunted in a defensive tone, Phryne decided to relinquish her attempts momentarily and settled for watching him fondly instead. She’d often wondered if Jack’s passion for food extended to any other areas of his life and was intent to uncover as many as she could.

Suddenly, something caught her eye outside the window. Phryne immediately craned her head and leaned back as far as she could in her chair to peer through the glass somehow without losing her balance.

“Spot an old friend all the way out here?” Jack looked up long enough to arch a brow before quickly resuming his mission to engulf the remainder of his dessert whilst his partner was otherwise occupied.

“That’s just it, Jack,” she mused out loud. “I could have sworn I recognized that woman who passed the window just now. Or, her coat at least, to be more specific.”

“Far be it from me to question your fine taste and attention to detail when it comes to fashion, Miss Fisher.” He thanked the server who had come to check on them at that moment, readily accepting a refill of his tea cup. Between the two of them, they had drained their original teapot ages ago.

“Thank you, but no.” Phryne, however, politely declined when the server turned towards her and then moved onto the next table. Jack immediately recognized the expression she wore as though she were a hunter picking up a scent. He managed to hide his slight grin behind his cup just as Miss Fisher straightened herself.

“I was just thinking, Jack, now that we’re finished here,” she began with a pointed look at his empty plate, completely devoid of even any crumbs. “Perhaps, I should just pop back over to the post office to check whether or not anyone has responded to my messages.”

“Good plan, Miss Fisher.” The inspector quickly glanced down at his well-worn wristwatch. “I still have about twenty minutes before my appointment at the estate agents if you’d like some company.”

At her beaming smile, he rose and dug through his pocketbook to pay the bill whilst Phryne edged her way towards the door, discreetly keeping an eye on the street traffic. She then took Jack’s arm and the two of them left the cafe and strolled out into the sunshine looking for all the world like a happy pair of holidaymakers. Phryne kept glancing into every shop window as they made their way in the direction of the post office.

Over the course of their drive into town from the holiday cottages, Jack had briefed Miss Fisher about his appointment to assist in the sale of his former in-laws’ holiday property. She readily accepted it as one of the chief reasons for his unexpected escape from the city even though he had left out most of the details. It was mostly from the desire of not wanting to bore her. In actuality, there was still some reason why he still didn’t feel ready for her to learn the full history between him and his superior officer. He wasn’t sure why since he trusted her completely, but now didn’t seem the time to examine this just yet.

On Phryne’s part, she had managed to transform herself in record time once Jack had stopped and waited for outside her cottage. She had rushed back out in one of her more customary visions of couture waving something that resembled a telegram. Jack had certainly done his best to focus on her words and the road and not reveal how much he appreciated how the silky aquamarine dress especially set off her pale skin and dark bob to maximum advantage. Apparently, the message had been delivered and was from Miss Williams requesting Miss Fisher to telephone or telegram Wardlow as soon as possible.

They had arrived to the post office before it had even properly opened for business. After her insistent knocking and layering of charm, the young postmaster had allowed Phryne inside where she immediately made use of their telephone and then their telegraph services after she couldn’t reach anyone at home. Jack had taken a brief stroll about the rest of the High Street whilst he waited for her, and then suggested that they try out his aforementioned tea room. They both speculated about what was happening back home in Melbourne until the arrival of the heavenly food stole their focus.

“Ah, Miss Fisher, not a second too soon,” the postmaster called out in greeting soon as the tinkling of the bell over the door alerted him to the arrival of a customer. “You’ve received several messages since you were last here.”

“Why, thank you ever so much, Mr Rogers,” she cooed at him as he handed her an envelope. Quickly opening it, she began to read as Jack busied himself over by the newsstand. The first was a response from Dot followed by a second telegraphed message from Bert. Dot’s message told her miss to try to find a copy of that day’s _Daily Star_ and Bert’s message informed her he would be arriving by noon to pick her up from her cottage. They had both alluded to the fact that Miss Fisher should return back to Melbourne as soon as possible. Wanting more information than was available, Phryne had then made use of the telephone again and was able to reach Dot this time. Jack had wandered back over to her by this point, his instincts prompting him to stay close to Miss Fisher as he paid for the newspapers he had selected.

“You’re absolutely certain then, Dot? Yes, I know. I’ll be sure to inform Inspector Robinson, and we will figure out a plan, don’t you worry. Please let Bert know I received his telegram, and that I’ll be ready by the time he arrives. Thank you, Dot, you’re an angel!”

Jack nodded towards the door as he tucked the newspapers under his other arm. She understood that he was indicating for them to retreat from under the extra watchful eyes of the eager postmaster and ears of the handful of other customers mingling about. After they thanked Mr Rogers for his services, Phryne again took Jack’s arm and the two of them again found themselves striding down the High Street, albeit a little less carefree than before.

“Jack, we need to look at the newspapers,” Phryne informed him in a slightly hushed tone, keeping her social smile pasted in place. “Apparently, there’s been more, ahem, ‘evidence’ that’s been published.”

“I know, Miss Fisher,” Jack confirmed. “I’ve already glanced at enough of the headlines and front page articles to understand everyone’s concerns. Also sounds like we need to get back and pay this Stormy Normy a visit, it would seem.” The slight tick in his jaw and the increase in speed by which he led them to a nearby, empty park bench was indication enough of his own worry. During their drive into town, Phryne had also taken the opportunity to update Jack on what she and the others had managed to find out since he had left town.

“Bert already did apparently,” she informed him as they sat down closely side-by-side, and Jack handed over one a newsprint sheet to her. “Good thing he’s so naturally suspicious by nature.”

“Hmm, I must admit that both he and Cecil have some meritable detecting traits, untrained as they are. But don’t tell them I said so.” Jack pointed out the article he recommended she start with. “So what did Albert discover then?”

“Bert said he had a hunch after meeting with Stormy Normy, and followed him last night. According to what he told Dot, something about him didn’t ‘sit right.’ So, Bert tailed him for a few hours and nearly left him when it was obvious he was simply returning to the office of the _Daily Star_ .”

“What prompted him to stick about then?”

“The fact that Normy began to kick up a fuss once he was inside. He was so loud that Bert could overhear him through the door that he had kept propped open with his foot after Normy had gone inside. The man was looking for someone, a woman who had promised to pay him.”

“This woman wasn’t present then, I take it? Could he have been looking for the office’s secretary? Maybe she’d forgotten to process payroll?”

“That’s what Dot wondered as well, but Bert heard Normy being told that he would have to come back in a day or so because the person he was looking for wasn’t there. When he began yelling again, the other person told him that ‘Miss Goodwin should be back in town by then.’”

“Did you say Goodwin?” Phryne watched as Jack narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he wasn’t happy or working through an especially stubborn and elusive conundrum. Now, he looked like he was doing both.

She nodded before continuing. “Then, after Normy left, Bert wandered into the office himself, saying he had some juicy tidbit of information that he had supposedly shared with the reported name Norman Peale and demanded that he be paid.”

“Smart move,” Jack admitted slightly absent-mindedly as he continued wearing his puzzle-solving expression.

“Before he was asked to show himself out, Bert was told that that their newspaper’s policy stated that every reporter was responsible for paying their own informants and sources themselves to preserve their anonymity.”

“That’s pretty standard from what I’m aware when it comes to the press.”

“True,” Phryne conceded as she shook the newspaper at Jack in her eagerness to continue her tale. “But, have you come across a reporter masquerading as someone else? I mean, more than just using a pen name?” She smiled triumphantly when Jack raised his eyebrows for her to continue. “After Bert was shown the door, he followed yet another hunch to remain in the doorway.”

“I’m amazed he hasn’t been charged more often for loitering.”

“Jack, listen! Whoever had shooed away Stormy Normy and then Bert was quick to make a telephone call…”

“That Albert, of course, conveniently overheard as well... _oomph_.” Jack widened his eyes in response to her slight elbow against his ribs.

“...to someone that he called ‘Norma!’” She continued eagerly.

“Are you sure he heard ‘Norma’ and not ‘Norman?’”

“Well, not unless this man goes around calling someone named Norman by endearments such as ‘sugar’ and telling him to ‘not get his knickers in a twist.'” It was Phryne’s turn to frown as she too tried to make sense of Bert’s nocturnal eavesdropping.

Jack suddenly gripped her hand, gently yet firmly, his eyes revealing that the puzzle pieces had finally begun to fall into place for him.

“Phryne, we need to get back to Melbourne as soon as possible. I’ll telephone ahead to Collins straight away first since I need him to verify a few facts first. But I’m fairly certain I got it right.” He began to stand up still holding her hand. “You mentioned that Albert is already on his way to pick you up?”

“Jack, wait, what are you talking about?” Phryne gave his hand a strong tug, pulling him back down beside her. “Yes, Bert said he’ll pick me up from the cottage around noon.”

“Phryne, I’m not sure whether it will amount to anything at all,” he spoke calmly although his eyes belied his concern for her. “But, if what Bert overheard was true, that there’s some mysterious woman connected to the _Daily Star_ who might be responsible for the scandalous rubbish she’s been printing about you and Foyle?”

“Miss Norma Goodwin,” she whispered, her face going pale as the same puzzle pieces suddenly, yet slowly slid into place for her as well. “It’s too much of a coincidence to be one, isn’t it?”

“Yes, which in our line of work most likely means it probably isn’t.” Jack nodded grimly as he wrapped his free arm about her as they both contemplated this latest layer to the mystery.

Although they hadn’t spoken of it together yet, the inspector knew Miss Fisher would have the names of the other girls who had disappeared around the time when Janey Fisher had also gone missing emblazoned across her mind. He himself had only just again recently reviewed the files for the three cold cases of the three girls whom the police had never been able to find, or to link successfully to Murdoch Foyle, although he remained the prime suspect. Three lives suspended in limbo until their mysterious disappearances could be solved: Janey Fisher, Deidre Kelly... and Ethel Goodwin.

After reassuring him that she would was all right, Jack reluctantly left Phryne on the bench in order to attend his appointment. She then picked up the first newspaper that had been deserted as she had recounted Bert’s findings to Jack.

Its screaming headlines and accompanying photographs nearly caused her to curse out loud:

 

**DETECTIVES ESCAPE ONGOING INVESTIGATION TO FLEE TO LOVE NEST**

 

Vowing to go telephone her solicitor right that very moment, Phryne jumped to her feet and marched away resolutely without seeing one of the news sheets that had slid to the ground. For now, its glaring headline hid against the grass verge until a passerby picked it up:

 

**NEW EVIDENCE FURTHER INCRIMINATES LORD FISHER’S DAUGHTER**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack can't shake the feeling that something's not quite right...

He couldn’t shake it off. No matter what he tried, Jack couldn’t escape the awareness that he was missing something. In fact, what had begun as an insistent niggling of discomfort now felt like the urgent screaming of his old shrapnel wound on days that portended heavy thunderstorms. Glancing out the windshield at the currently clear skies, Jack gripped his steering wheel even harder and gave into the intensity that something was terribly wrong by slamming his foot against the gas pedal so that it was nearly to the floor. 

Unfortunately, there had been some discrepancy or other with the paperwork at the estate agents during his earlier appointment. Thus, Jack had had to resign himself to returning later that day after the office had had time to contact George Sanderson to confirm some final details. This meant that he had had to rush back into Warburton after driving Miss Fisher back to the cottage and insisting it was no trouble at all to keep her company until Albert Johnson had arrived to take her back to Melbourne. 

Jack knew that Miss Fisher could more than take care of herself, and that her cabbie friend’s loyalty was also something that could be relied upon. As he had watched the black cab drive away before climbing back into his own motorcar, Jack’s instincts continued to war within him.

Obviously, there was regret from wishing he could have been the one to accompany his partner back to the city due to a desire to ensure her well-being, especially in light of the recent allegations flooding the newspapers that very day. In spite of her usual poise and customary flirting, Jack could still sense the turmoil she tried to mask when she had bounced up onto her toes to plant a slightly longer than necessary kiss of farewell to his cheek. He had squeezed her hand after assisting her into the cab and nodded at her reminder of his acceptance to join her for dinner at Wardlow later that evening after his own return.

Of course, Jack had every intention of doing so, and not just because he had finally received verification from Constable Collins to his earlier telephone call to City South Station following his return to town. As often happened in his line of work, it nearly felt worst to have his speculations confirmed, which was exactly what occurred when he heard Collins dutifully reading out the names of each of the girls who had gone missing alongside Janey Fisher. Then, his heart had begun to pound again when his officer began to read out the names of each girl’s immediate family members. Following the familiar litany of the Fishers, Jack knew they were onto something when Collins read out the name of the missing girl, Ethel Goodwin, and confirmed she had an older sister named Norma. 

After instructing Hugh to drop whatever he was working on to go investigate what he could about Norma Goodwin and find out where she had gone and what she was now doing, Jack had rushed back to the estate agents. Even though he had borrowed the office and telephone of the sergeant at Warburton’s smaller police office to contact Collins, the inspector could tell from his constable’s extra stammering that something else was amiss. Jack also felt it more prudent to keep his suspicions regarding the so-called ‘new evidence’ linked to Miss Fisher to himself until he could return and make use of his own more discreet channels. Reassuring the younger man that he would be back on duty the following day, Jack had returned to the estate agents and used every ounce of his authoritative bearing that he normally reserved for recalcitrant perpetrators to finalize everything once and for all with the property sales. Then, he had sped off having already packed his few belongings from his fishing hut after seeing Miss Fisher off.

As the familiar roads and landmarks of Melbourne began to mark his route back into the city, Jack debated whether he had time to at least stop by his residence and change into his favourite suit before making his way over to Wardlow. Niggling instincts or not, he always felt more like himself when presenting his suited self to the world (and especially a certain fellow detective). Even so, he hurried through his ablutions like someone with a hound at his heels. Before long, the inspector found himself standing on Wardlow’s familiar doorstep outwardly presenting his stoic composure. Internally, however, his pulse had begun to speed up as a result of the overwhelming alarm bells now ringing through his head. 

Thus, Jack wasn’t even the slightest surprised when the familiar front door jerked open to reveal a pale-looking Mr Butler. He retained his usual calm demeanour, but his eyes betrayed a mixture of anxiety and relief.

“It’s truly good to see you, sir, please come inside.” The kindly older man gestured for the inspector to enter.

As he complied, an agitated Dorothy Williams rushed into the entryway, her features bearing evidence of recent tears. She immediately reached out towards Jack and gripped his hands with more strength than her usually timid nature portrayed.

“Oh, thank God you’re finally here, Inspector Robinson!”

“What’s happened, Miss Williams?” He knew without being told that it had somehow had to do with Miss Fisher and her very conspicuous absence.

“It’s Miss Phryne, Inspector,” Dot cried out as a fresh bout of tears began streaming down her face. “She was arrested as soon as Bert brought her back home earlier!”

“What? By whom?” 

“The constable who had been standing guard took her away,” Mr Butler confirmed after closing the door. “He said the ‘top brass’ had ordered her to be arrested soon as she returned.” 

“Did he say where he was taking her?”

“No, and we still don’t know, Inspector,” Miss Williams fretted. “Bert followed them straight away, and we still haven’t heard from him. I’ve been trying to get hold of Hugh, but haven’t been able to reach him either. And the officer on the duty desk refused to speak to me.”

“May I borrow your telephone, please?”

After telephoning his own station and demanding a full briefing from the now sufficiently cowed lackey at the desk, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson offered what ressurances he could to Miss Fisher’s household to get to the bottom of things. He then donned his hat, returned to his motorcar and sped off to Russell Street.

*-*-*

Jack glanced up briefly when the headlamps of a passing vehicle illuminated the columns of what most people still referred to as the Old Melbourne Gaol, located just across the street from the Victoria Police’s main headquarters on Russell Street. The irony was not lost on the inspector as he wondered what Miss Fisher would think about the fact that the former city jail had been renovated and opened in 1927 as a new college exclusively for women. That in and of itself might have passed muster except for the fact this particular college was dedicated solely to the ‘domestic sciences’. Perhaps he would ask her as soon as he could discover her whereabouts and secure her release, which he was set on doing as he marched up the steps to the imposing building housing his superiors.

The inspector headed straight towards the front desk, taking out his badge and whipping it under the nose of the constable stationed there who still had not yet looked up from whatever he was writing down.

“I’m here to see Miss Phryne Fisher who was incarcerated earlier today,” Jack informed the junior officer without any preamble.

“Good evening, Inspector Robinson,” the other man responded smoothly, a trace of snide arrogance underlying his tone as he finally looked up after taking in Jack’s credentials. “We were told to inform Deputy Commissioner Sanderson whenever you arrived. Would you care to take a seat in the waiting area whilst I call him?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Constable,” Jack responded authoritatively with a menacing glower that evoked a satisfying flicker of uncertainty in the underling’s expression. “I’ll see myself directly to his office.” 

He then pushed through the gate and continued making his way resolutely without a backwards glance. The ornate, dark wood panelling of the headquarters’ main corridors were meant to display the formidity of those charged with the responsibility of upholding the law. But Jack had never cared for them and now found them more overbearing and constricting than usual. Glancing at his wristwatch, he also knew that the deputy commissioner normally would have gone home by now for his dinner and port. Evidently, Sanderson was working late tonight, however, which only fed into the inspector’s assumption that his former father-in-law was connected with Miss Fisher’s arrest. Pausing only briefly to give the man’s door a perfunctory knock, Jack turned the handle and marched straight in without waiting for a response.

“Good evening, Deputy Commissioner,” Jack greeted the man seated behind his desk. “Why do you need to be informed if I wish to visit someone who has been taken into custody?”

“Ah, Jack, did you just get back?” George Sanderson responded as he put down his cup of tea. “Thank you for seeing everything through with the holiday property matter, I really appreciate it. Please, take a seat and have some tea.”

“No, thank you, sir.” Jack remained standing expectantly, waiting for an answer to his query. “I’m here to enquire about Miss Fisher's whereabouts and why she was taken into custody.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see why you have been so concerned about her well-being.” George remarked as he picked up his drink and began searching about his desk for something. Finally locating what he was looking for, he picked it up and handed it over to Jack with a solemn air. “I thought I had warned you to stay away from her though? You know I don’t need to outline how further damaging this has become, Jack.”

Jack knew what Sanderson was alluding to as soon as he spotted the newspaper in the other man’s hands. All the same he dutifully accepted the paper and regarded the contents on the front page that he had already witnessed earlier that morning in Warburton. Following the racy headline about the so-called ‘love nest’, several grainy photos still indisputably showed that it was him and Miss Fisher sitting in extremely close proximity on his rowing boat. These were followed by an image of them of them side-by-side on the deck of his hut and another of Jack carrying Phryne in his arms heading inside. He ignored the salubrious captions and looked up with one of his eerily calm expressions.

“With all due respect, sir, I wasn’t aware that a citizen could be arrested based on some scandalous allegations by the press.” Jack refused to be forced into explaining the truth behind the damning photographs, especially to his former father-in-law. To his credit, Sanderson had the dignity to not pry, but the conversation was far from over.

“Forget the photographs, Jack,” George responded with a dismissive wave towards the newsprint that Jack had dropped back onto the desk. “We were forced to take Miss Fisher into custody today because of undeniable evidence that came to police attention.”

“What sort of evidence?” Jack scrunched his eyebrows, his hands moving to his hips in a position that belied his intense skepticism.

“There’s been the discovery of another letter that Foyle had written to Miss Fisher, outlining details of his plan to escape. In this letter, he wrote that he was giving her one final chance to find out the truth about what happened to her sister. Otherwise, he would disappear and she would never know.”

“If she has received another letter from him, that doesn’t prove that she in any way aided him in escaping prison.”

George didn’t respond other than to open one of his desk drawers and draw out an evidence envelope. Knowing he still had Jack’s full attention, the deputy commissioner pulled out what looked to be some correspondence on the plain and basic paper that prisoners could request. After removing these and passing them to Jack, Sanderson waited for the inspector to peruse the newly discovered letter from Foyle. Then, as soon as Jack looked up from examining the document and opened his mouth to speak, the deputy commissioner removed another separate piece of parchment from the evidence bag. 

This paper was of an obviously higher grade of quality, Jack noted before he instantly recognized the elaborate, silver monogram of Miss Fisher’s personalized stationery. Taking the proffered sheet and envelope from his superior, Jack began to read the missive penned in Phryne’s elegant and looping hand. His heart began to race because the words his mind was absorbing could leave no doubt that she was in agreement with Foyle’s dastardly proposal. Jack silently finished reading the letter twice before passing everything back to the deputy commissioner, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts although everything within him was seething.

“I’d like to visit Miss Fisher now please,” the inspector requested again in the dangerously calm tone that those who knew him best took well to pay heed to. Even if George Sanderson hadn’t been an intimate part of Jack’s life for nearly two decades, the deputy commissioner was also no fool. 

“Of course, Jack.” Sanderson leaned back fully in his chair, steepled his hands in front of him and slowly nodded. “She might still be in the women’s holding cells downstairs.”

“What do you mean by ‘ _might_ be,’ George?” Jack’s tone held a very strong undercurrent that spoke for itself.

“As I’m sure you’re well aware, Inspector,” Sanderson informed him cryptically. “Miss Fisher is of that class in society that can wield much influence when required. This does not allow them to be above the law, by any means, but it can certainly help to speed up procedures a lot more quickly than for the average person on the street.”

“Please get to the point, sir,” Jack bit out as professionally as possible.

“Her solicitor was in touch not long before you arrived having secured her release for the time being.”

“I see, thank you for informing me," Jack quickly told the other man to save himself from having to comment on what he really thought about his superior’s explanation. "If that's all then I'll bid you good night, sir."

In some ways, he wished Sanderson had started with the fact he may have been on a fool’s errand if Phryne had already left. Gritting his teeth to bite back his frustration, Jack gave Sanderson a terse nod before striding out of the richly decorated office, closing the door firmly behind him. Then, noting that the outer office area was now completely empty of constables, secretaries and cleaning personnel, he all but ran in the direction of the stairs leading down to the holding cells. He flew down the steps, only slowing once he reached the bottom where he took out his credentials before passing through the secure door and then headed in the direction of the women’s side of the jail block.

“Jack!” Her voice rang out as she spotted him before his eyes could adjust properly to the darker interior lighting of the cell block. It drew him like a moth to the first and largest cell where she stood watching him anxiously approach before reaching through the bars for his outstretched hand. “I’m so sorry, Jack.”

“For what, Miss Fisher?” He gripped her hands tightly, cursing under his breath at how chilled they felt to his touch. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should have come back to Melbourne with you, and not let you go through all this on your own.”

“Please, Jack,” she spoke gently, yet firmly. “Please, stop blaming yourself. You couldn’t have known or prevented any of this any more than I could have. And, I haven’t been alone, at least not the entire time.”

Jack glanced about and wondered what she meant considering the other cells were currently empty and the guard was too far away down the corridor. She caught his unspoken query and rushed on to explain.

“Poor Bert has been run quite ragged all day on my behalf. First of all, I wanted to make sure he could go fetch dear Aunt Prudence and bring her here since they only allowed me to telephone my solicitor. The constable that brought me down here agreed to contact my next of kin, which I can imagine must have worried the poor old dear to no end. Especially as I have no idea whether Guy and Isabella are still in town or not.”

“Was Mrs Stanley here all day then?”

“She was, but not down here. After checking to make certain I was all right, she left again to raise hell with the Chief Commissioner… and most likely everyone else she could think of between here and the Prime Minister’s office. I asked Bert to stay with her and take here wherever she needed to go.”

“That would explain why he hadn’t had the time to notify your household, at least, not before I had arrived back.”

“Oh poor Dot and Mr Butler, they must have been beside themselves with worry! I did ask Bert to try to let them know soon as he could. And Jane! I hope they didn’t disrupt her day at school.” 

“From what I could tell, I don’t think that was the case when I arrived at your house.” He felt a measure of relief at the slight smile that curved her lips. "Besides, I’m certain the combination of your aunt’s influence and your solicitors have secured your bail and imminent release by now. I just came from the deputy commissioner’s office and he more or less confirmed this.”

Miss Fisher suddenly tightened her hold before releasing his hands completely and stepping away from the metal bars between them. 

“I’m sorry, Jack, for getting you dragged into this whole big mess.” She began to pace before stopping to look at him earnestly. “For ruining your reputation like this… and now, most likely, your career as well!”

“No, Miss Fisher, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he immediately protested. “Hang my reputation! What’s important is getting you out of here.” She suddenly stopped him with a piercing look before interrupting him with a decisive air.

“Thank you for your concern, Inspector,” she declared before crossing her arms and turning away from him partially, her face now hidden by the shadows. “But, I really do think it’d be best if you go now. You should distance yourself from me and all this before it can get any worse.”

“But, Miss Fisher…”

“Jack, please go. I’ll be fine.”

“Phryne, you must know that…” he tried again before looking over his shoulder at the loud echoes of the guard approaching. She turned her head towards him as he attempted to finish conveying his message to her with his eyes alone. Seconds later the guard called out that their visit needed to come to an end. 

Removing his grip back from the bars he had been holding, Jack nodded in resignation at the other officer who held out his arm to indicate that Jack should preceed him down the corridor. Pushing his hands into his pockets, the inspector shivered slightly from more than just the chilly air emanating from the cell and its lone occupant that he was forced to leave behind. 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have read my previous works know how I'm a stickler for historical accuracy. So, I just had to include that intriguing historical nugget about the Old Melbourne Gaol becoming an all-women's domestic science college in 1927 when I was researching the Russell Street Victorian Police HQ! I figured it was something that Phryne would definitely find ironic.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack mulls over everything that has happened wishing he could share his thoughts with a certain lady detective...

It was well past midnight by the time Jack finally made it back to his house. Not bothering to turn on any lights after he had locked the front door behind him, he reached out, as he always did, to place his hat on the hook behind the door. Unlike when he had returned earlier, he now remembered to sidestep the stack of boxes filled with books and various other bits and bobs. He had begun sorting through his things once he knew the divorce would become formalized. Long before that he had already decided there really was no point for him to maintain the relatively spacious house all on his own. Besides, the house had also been part of a wedding gift to him and his former wife, again from her father. Like their holiday home, it seemed only right and logical to let go of this part of his past. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Jack navigated his way around his mostly packed up belongings and headed towards his drinks cabinet in the parlour that he now mainly used as a study.

After the abrupt parting between him and Miss Fisher at Russell Street, the inspector had driven straight to City South where he first telephoned 221B The Esplanade to reassure the household of their mistress’ well-being and imminent release. Miss Williams had thanked Jack profusely for following up with this welcome information. In fact, they had only just had a welcome telephone call from Miss Fisher herself who was waiting for Bert to come bring her home. Dot was also extremely grateful to the inspector for letting her know about Hugh’s whereabouts after Jack discovered that Constable Collins and several other of his men had been dispatched to City Central to support them in another investigation. 

Not really wanting to head home at that point, Jack had then perused a few letters, messages and, most importantly, the file of notes that Collins had set aside for his review upon his return to the station. The inspector had to admit he was rather impressed by his protégé’s ability to unearth as much information as he did about the mysterious Norma Goodwin. 

The details were brief, but enough for a seasoned investigator like himself to see a rough outline about the woman’s life: First child from a local, well-to-do family; attended a prestigious ladies’ college in Adelaide; married by age 18, etcetera. What Jack wanted to know was why and how this young woman from such an uppercrust family ended up working in such an unconventional role as a tabloid newspaper reporter. At least Collins had been able to verify that the _Daily Star_ reporter’s byline ‘N Peale’ was indeed that of a Mrs Norma Peale. From what his constable had managed to track down, Norma Goodwin had wed a Melbourne man by the name of Thomas Peale whose details became sketchy after he had enlisted during the war. 

Jack had leaned back in his desk chair then, wishing that he could run through the new facts alongside a nightcap with a certain lady detective. Or even via a telephone call. But it was much too late in the day now. And he knew she had only just been released from being detained after making it clear that she didn’t wish to remain in contact with him for the time being. He had run a hand through his hair in frustration at the helplessness he felt about what had happened. No, it was best to keep his distance for now and wait as she might not welcome his intrusion so soon afterwards.

Eventually, Jack had even given up any intent to go over the case files involving what information there was available to the police about Murdoch Foyle. His half-hearted attempts had merely served to summon his vivid recollection of Miss Fisher’s nightmare (good heavens, had it only been from the night before?) and the indelible sensations of having her in his arms until dawn. And that only led to the floodgate of every moment of their beautiful day together on the lake and at the hut followed by their lovely breakfast at the tea room. As images of Phryne continued to plague his concentration, Jack knew then that he should just give up any attempts at working through the night and return home to try to get some rest.

Now, with another finger of his favourite whisky lining his stomach, Jack again allowed the warmth of yesterday’s memories flow over him as pleasantly as the feeling of the drink now fortifying his insides. His mind, however, joined forces with hunger to stab him with the cold finger of reality. Shaking his head, the happy memories were now replaced by Miss Fisher’s words and sad expression before she had turned away from him and asked him to leave. 

He groaned out loud then as the avalanche of emotions weighted with guilt and shame that he had been holding at bay all night threatened to swallow him whole. Replaying the entire scene back and forth through his thoughts, Jack was all too aware that her entire demeanour had changed after he had mentioned his visit to the deputy commissioner. Of course she would have recoiled at the reminder that he represented those who had arrested her. How he wished he could have somehow prevented it all from happening. He shouldn’t have gone away when he did, even if Sanderson had been so persistent about it. That way, he could have discovered the emergence of the new letters between Foyle and Miss Fisher. But, no, something about the entire thing still didn’t sit right because Jack knew that Phryne would have told him about them. Wouldn’t she? No matter, here he was wallowing away at home when he should be figuring out just exactly who was targeting his partner and why. 

Suddenly, he heard a distinctly out of place noise from somewhere else in the house. Putting down his tumbler, Jack silently crept towards the hallway where he picked up his sturdy cricket bat that he had not had the opportunity to pack yet due to its weight and size. There was another sound, this time a slight rustling noise coming from the direction of his kitchen. As he neared the door, lifting his bat into a swinging stance, the inspector was suddenly assaulted by a combination of overpowering scents. 

One of which was distinctly familiar. 

Jack instantly lowered his weapon to flick on the kitchen’s light switch hidden next to his ice chest. The glare revealed a rapidly-blinking lady detective standing in the middle of his kitchen.

“Hello, Jack!” She greeted him as though it were the middle of the day and this wasn’t the first time she had ever been to his home. “You should have let me know to bring along my cricket whites.” She added in a playful tone with a little nod towards his bat whilst continuing to remove items from a large basket on his kitchen table. He was still too stunned to form any type of coherent response.

Instead, Jack felt himself begin to sway slightly at the combination of pounding adrenaline and alcohol on an empty stomach as the familiar fragrance of her French perfume fought with the mouth-watering aromas of whatever was still hiding in the basket. Sensing something wasn’t right, Miss Fisher turned to assess him again with one sweeping look. Instantly, her former clinical training took over as she quickly rushed to his side and gripped him around the waist with one arm. The other removed the cricket bat and propped it against the nearest wall. 

Pulling out one of the sturdy chairs at the wooden table, she pushed him into it before feeling his forehead and lifting a wrist to feel his pulse whilst checking his eyes. Apparently satisfied with her brief check-up, she then began flitting about his kitchen as though it were her own, producing plates, cutlery and a tall glass of water in front of him. Then with a flourish, she began uncovering several wondrous dishes filled with to heaps of roasted beef, perfectly crisped potatoes au gratin… and finally, a ramekin dish of something that looked like a golden apple crumble.

“Honestly, you leave me for only a few hours, and this is the state I find you in!” She scolded him with a flash of a smile as she began plopping the food onto his plate before stopping to wave the serving spoon at him menacingly. “Start with that glass of water, Inspector, that I’ve added some sugar to to help recover your blood sugar levels.”

“Yes, Nurse Fisher,” he mumbled in response, pushing away his shock at discovering her, and giving in to do as he was told. She watched him like a hawk before handing him a fork once she was satisfied he had drunk enough water. 

“Chew, Jack,” she prompted him with a fond pat to the side of his face as she settled herself into the seat adjacent to him. Propping her chin against one hand, she leaned over with one elbow on the table to continue watching him tuck into the meal. “Since our dinner plans were so rudely upended, I wanted to make it up to you, especially after you left...” 

She trailed off then, twirling a strand of hair with one finger, as she paused with an uncharacteristic air of uncertainty. “Although, I did mean what I said about not wanting to ruin your reputation and career.”

Jack immediately put down his utensils to gently take her other hand that had been playing with his glass of water.

“And I meant what I was unable to finish saying to you, Miss Fisher,” he said clearly. “I will always believe in you no matter what anyone else says or does, including yourself.”

She blinked suddenly and glanced away briefly at his words. Jack wisely let go of her hand, and resumed eating giving her the space she seemed to need.

“It’s just that, I didn’t really trust that guard down at the cells, especially after he failed to notice my oozing charm,” she finally responded with a tiny hint of her regular sassiness. “But actually, I didn’t trust anyone wearing a uniform after they told me their reasons for arresting me.”

“Well, it’s rather fortuitous then that I’m no longer required to wear one.” Jack’s mouth quirked slightly before he resumed his serious expression. “Phryne, I don’t blame you at all for feeling that way, especially until we can get to the bottom of this latest so-called evidence against you.”

It was his turn to blink rapidly when she jumped up abruptly with the full return of her usual vibrant energy.

“That’s what I couldn’t wait to talk to you about, Jack! As you know, I’ve had ample time to ponder about everything that’s been happening.” She noticed that his plate was nearly clean before wandering back to his kitchen cupboards and rummaged about for two spoons that she brought back and waved enthusiastically towards the dessert. “And I’ve got the perfect plan! Let’s go over it all with Mr B’s crumble… and a nightcap?”

“I’m sure I can offer you something adequate to the task, Miss Fisher,” Jack agreed before pushing back his chair and began rising to his feet slowly. Phryne was instantly standing extremely close to him, reaching out a hand as though to help steady him again. 

“I never doubted it for a minute.” When he seemed to manage fine on his own, she lightly ran it down one of his lapels instead. “But do feel free to add anything else you think might _enhance_ our discussion, Inspector.” 

Jack coughed slightly as her fingers lifted up to sweep some of his unruly hair that had long ago escaped its daytime confines. “Well, Miss Fisher, I’m afraid that most of my things have now been wrapped up or packed away.”

“Well then, Inspector, good thing I’m an expert at unravelling things!” 

Her hand drifted downwards with a teasing pluck to his slightly loosened tie knot before she turned to pick up the crumble dish. Then, with a flash of her impish smile, she whirled out of the room in a flurry, leaving him to pick up the spoons and follow in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely feedback and patience with me with this story! 
> 
> I really struggled with this chapter for some reason and then went on holiday without my computer (and where the wifi was abysmal). Then, what I wrote ended up being nearly 5,000 words so I decided to break it up into two new chapters. This is the first part for now and I'll post the second sooner as it's already written. I'm hoping to wrap the case and story up in the next two chapters!
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time to read and letting me know your thoughts, which really encourage me (especially as RL hasn't allowed me as much time to write of late)!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two detectives do what they do best...in more ways than one.

At the sound of his cuckoo clock announcing that it was well into the single hours of the morning, Jack put down the pencil he had been using to scratch down notes of their grand plan to uncover the truth behind whoever was trying to implicate Phryne. He tried to stifle a yawn and rubbed his tired eyes just as she eagerly snatched the piece of paper from his beneath his other hand and began reviewing what he had captured thus far.   
  
As Jack had correctly presumed, Miss Fisher had done an outstanding job of filling in the gaps of the rough sketch that they had about the mysterious Norma Goodwin. Together with what Collins had looked into and Phryne had been able to glean from her Aunt Prudence’s arsenal of societal gossip, they had the makings of a plan that might just draw out their quarry.   
  
Norma had indeed come from an upper class family, and like many young women of her background, she had spent the majority of her early life at a prestigious girl’s finishing school in Adelaide. This also meant that she wasn’t at home when her younger sister, Ethel, had disappeared without a trace. As a result of her parents’ inconsolable grief, they had sent immediately for their remaining child to return home where she became a prisoner in a gilded cage. She was rarely allowed out of her home, and whenever she did, she was always accompanied by one of her parents and a guard her father had hired.   
  
“Let me guess,” Jack had interjected at this point of Miss Fisher’s recounting. “His name was Thomas Peale.”   
  
“Spot on, Inspector,” Phryne had exclaimed in approval, clinking her tumbler against his in an appreciative toast. “I suppose that after spending such close proximity to one another for years, it didn’t come as such a great surprise when the two lovebirds had eloped.”   
  
“If that’s the case, then why has his file gone, er, cold?” Jack had wondered out loud. “I mean, we know he enlisted, but what happened to him after that? If he didn’t make it home, there should be a death certificate or ‘missing in action’ notice registered at the very least.”   
  
“Well, according to the rumour mill...” Miss Fisher had dramatically paused until Jack had rolled his eyes at her. “It would seem that dear old Tom became enamoured with an actress he met towards the end of the war. Someone from a touring dance troupe, you know, the ones who were meant to boost morale, that sort of thing.”   
  
“Ah, yes,” Jack had replied noncommittally with a slight smirk and meaningful lift of his eyebrows.   
  
“Believe it or not, I’m actually not speaking from firsthand experience about that,” she had harrumphed in near serious indignation at his presumption. “Although, I may have lent my vocals at a few sing-alongs on the front, my time on the stage didn’t dawn until after I had returned to England.”   
  
At Jack’s amused nod that she promptly ignored, Miss Fisher continued weaving her tale about Norma. After being so cruelly deserted by her husband who had pursued his paramour all the way to America apparently, Norma Goodwin Peale swore she could never return to the suffocating life she had experienced at home with her parents. Instead, she put her clever mind to good use and began enrolling into many of the modern secretarial courses opened to women at the time following the war. Eventually, she had been able to put her new knowledge of typing and shorthand to good use by securing a post at a local newspaper. From what Aunt Prudence told her, the Goodwins were appalled enough at the fact that their daughter was earning, but they absolutely refused to have anything to do with her once she had started working for the newspaper. Due to the ongoing rift between Norma and her family, she had continued using her married name even after her divorce had gone through, although she’d reverted to using her maiden name socially.   
  
“Apparently, the main reason for Norma’s success has hinged on the fact that she’s been able to dig up people’s ‘deepest’ and ‘darkest’ secrets and then expose them in that poor excuse for decent journalism.”   
  
“And most likely, the _ Daily Star _ hasn’t had any qualms about paying out for scandalous headlines or having them written up by a woman so long as she can keep dishing it out,” Jack had agreed as his brow wrinkled in distaste. “But surely even Mrs Stanley wouldn’t stoop to learning that level of detail?”   
  
“Of course not!” Phryne had waved a hand to dismiss the notion. “Last night, Bert apparently bought Stormy Normy a few rounds or two at the pub. He managed to discover that the scoundrel was one of Norma’s main sources. She’s been more than happy for him to assume the easy misunderstanding with their similar-sounding names.”   
  
“No doubt so she can continue to profit from the slander without worrying about the consequences of having to dig up the dirt directly.”   
  
“Except when it comes to spying on us all the way in Warburton,” she couldn’t help concluding.   
  
Somehow, over the course of their plotting, Phryne had ended up perching on the corner of the desk that had been in Jack’s family for decades. It was the only piece of furniture that he had ever been attached to and had insisted on keeping even when it had never quite matched his ex-wife’ several attempts at redecorating. Now, his lips quirked slightly in amusement as he leaned back in his chair to regard Phryne who had begun swinging one of her dark trousered-clad legs distractedly.   
  
An implacable feeling of deep-rooted contentment bloomed at the familiar sight and moment reflective of previous and recent moments spent in his office at City South as they had wrestled through other puzzles together. It felt more than just ‘right’ since that sentiment didn’t seem concrete enough. In fact, nothing seemed adequate to express his recognition that this remarkable woman next to him somehow just belonged there. Even if she had initially steam-rolled her way into his cases, his office… and now straight into his house.   
  
It wasn’t lost on him that for someone who prided herself on being the butterfly that flitted here and there, she was somehow managing to embed herself more deeply into his life. On his part, he could now acknowledge that this odd kinship he felt with her had woven itself far more intricately into his being than just their obvious physical attraction to one another (although that very much still bubbled dangerously and enticingly beneath). He also knew that now was not the time to attempt to identify what this meant for him. Or for her. But at least he was confident of the fact that she had secured his loyalty and earned his trust, and that especially now, he would stand by her.   
  
After her sullen statement, she grew uncharacteristically quiet. Jack knew she had again become anxious about the compromising photos that no doubt Norma had somehow obtained in her vendetta to ruin the Honourable Phryne Fisher. He lifted a brow at her questioningly when she reached out to touch his arm lightly.   
  
“I wouldn’t have gone out there to find you if I had any idea that all this was going to happen, Jack,” she admitted morosely.   
  
“I must admit, I’m really glad that you did get to visit my fishing hut, Miss Fisher,” he surprised and pleased her with his response as he roused himself out of his reverie to reply. “I might have starved otherwise.” He couldn't help giving her an outright grin when she swatted at him playfully before gripping his arm in earnest.   
  
“But those photos, Jack! I can only imagine what your superiors, or your colleagues and... others must think of you now.”   
  
She paused, uncomfortable at the thought that she didn’t know who else was in his life who might have the right to be concerned.  At the same time, she was furious as at what all the gossip mongers must no doubt be gleefully prattling their tongues over. Daring to socially slander this honourable man whom she admired and respected so much.   
  
“I told you that my reputation doesn’t matter to me in the least, Miss Fisher.”   
  
Their eyes locked as they had earlier before Jack had been forced to leave her behind in her cell. Now, they could resume that emotionally-laden, unspoken conversation without interruption. Until Jack leaned back and cleared his throat abruptly.   
  
“Besides, we need to focus on yours right now. And, more importantly, we have the opportunity to clear your name as well with this elaborate plan.” He gestured towards the piece of paper that Phryne still held. “Especially if it works out.”   
  
“Of course it will work, Jack! She simply won’t be able to resist.”   
  
“Not many people can when it comes to anything to do with you, Miss Fisher,” he said knowingly.   
  
“Hmm,” she replied in a non-committal tone. “Unfortunately, it’s not always in a favourable vein.”   
  
“Perhaps,” he acknowledged before eyeing her with an inquisitive tilt of the head. “But that’s never really seemed to bother you before.”   
  
She stilled at his assessment and stared down at the piece of paper she still held with such concentration that Jack wouldn’t have been surprised to see it begin to burst into flame. When she still didn’t respond, he leaned forward then in concern and gently placed a hand onto her knee and simply waited. His touch seemed to tether her back to the moment, prompting her to lift haunted eyes towards him.   
  
“Only because this is the first time it has to do with someone else like me.” She looked away as an obvious wave of emotion tried to engulf her. “I mean, another person who lost her sister to this monster… and yet...”   
  
“And yet instead of directing her anger and grief at who is most likely responsible for it, she’s channelled it towards you,” Jack summarized whilst gently removing his hand and wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms to offer her what comfort he could. But battling within himself to not go near the delicate tightrope stretched taut between them.     
  
“But I don’t understand how she could think that I’d be in league with that despicable bastard when he… he… he took my little sister too!”   
  
Phryne threw the outline back onto Jack’s desk before jumping to her feet in indignation. She clenched her fists and steeled herself from the overwhelming loss and anger she had learned to hold at bay so well. Even though she had already learned to trust this man with her innermost feelings and the years of harboured self-incrimination and pain over losing Janey, a small part of stubborness to relinquish control still wanted to flee from it all.   
  
But just as she was about to move away, Jack instinctively reached out to grasp her wrist and gently tugged her towards him. The momentum of his action pulled her off balance and onto his lap. They again locked eyes as they became acutely aware of the other’s sudden closeness. Before he could think, Jack gave in to his earlier feelings and wrapped one arm about her, pulling her frame close against his chest as the other cradled her head just as he had the night before.   
  
Still battling with the sudden eruption of her anger and grief, Phryne stubbornly pulled back slightly. Her stormy gaze began to leak with the tears she couldn’t prevent. Again, Jack felt himself responding to the sight of her struggling not to weep. Before his mind registered what was happening, his body directed his lips gently against hers as he sought to reassure her in the one way that he felt his words alone couldn’t adequately convey in that moment.   
  
At his unexpected gesture, Phryne immediately stopped resisting and leaned into the source of the delicious sensations quickly taking over her emotions. His lips tasted of the sweet traces of apple that mingled with her salty tears, and the simultaneously foreign yet familiar essence of just him .   
  
All manner of thought and words fled between them, and she dove into the heady bliss of losing herself in the delightful frisson that burst through the heavy melancholy of moments earlier. For weeks and months now, she had been so drawn to his beautiful mouth with its untold storage of nearly imperceptible smiles and other secrets. That gatekeeper of the voice that she could hear even in her subconscious moments. Now, these wonderful lips were released upon her own at last and trailing their way against her neck and down towards her…   
  
Suddenly, a distinctive tapping sound pierced through their haze of passion, which they still managed to ignore until the repetitive pattern finally penetrated and reached both detectives’ consciousness. Phryne heard Jack utter a curse and she barely managed to stifle a moan of frustration. They both reluctantly pried open their eyes only to find themselves tangled together and sprawled halfway across Jack’s desk.   
  
Phryne’s fingers were clutching at the front of Jack’s shirt that she had managed to unbutton enough to reveal a well-formed chest. She couldn’t resist lightly running her nails across the final layer of his singlet revealed beneath, openly ogling the appealing image of the disheveled inspector pressed against her. Jack, however, immediately released his hold against her hair and awkwardly removed his other hand from under her blouse as he straightened back up to a standing position and began to wildly clear his throat.   
  
“Please accept my deepest apologies, Miss Fisher,” he began to blurt out as he held out a hand to her. “I was overcome by your grief and anger earlier, and mainly sought to reassure you…”   
  
“Feel free to reassure me any time, Inspector,” she invited him with a knowing smile, giving him the dignity of averting her gaze away from his lower body and its evident response to their too brief interlude. She eagerly accepted his strong hand that helped pull her up into a sitting position. With a furtive glance toward him, she began straightening out her attire without any qualms.   
  
“No! I mean, thank you for not berating me,” he continued earnestly. “But, please do forgive me for taking such liberties when I clearly shouldn't have done so.” He stopped waving his hands in his overwrought attempts to apologize to her when she reached out to begin doing up his shirt. She stilled them when he closed his hands over hers gently.   
  
“There’s nothing to forgive, Jack,” she reassured him. “Like I’ve told you, I know you are nothing but a man of honour. I trust you implicitly.”   
  
“Thank you, but I’ll take it from here, Miss Fisher,” he told her, with a hint of a smile at her profound admission. He then gave her a shake of his head when she managed to recover his tie from beneath a rather rumpled sheet or two of paper that hadn’t been pushed over the side. “Now, who would be knocking at my door at this hour?”   
  
“Oh, I believe I know the explanation to that, Inspector,” Phryne informed him nonchalantly as she slid gracefully to her feet looking as fresh as she always did albeit now wearing much less of her usual crimson lipstick. “It was a precaution, if you will. With all that’s been going on, I didn’t want anyone to see me leaving my house, especially to come to you here.”   
  
“Is it Albert?” Jack asked as understanding dawned and he accompanied her back towards the kitchen and his back door where the tapping had begun again.   
  
“Yes, poor man, he’s been such an angel doing all this extra chauffeuring for me of late. We used Dot as a decoy again earlier. Bert took her for a spin and then I slipped out and took a normal taxicab.”   
  
They had reached the kitchen and Jack began helping her to repack the dinner things into the basket as Phryne continued to explain. “I had the driver drop me off a street away from here just in case. I had arranged for Bert to return for me and to come directly and knock at your back door… in case I didn’t show up at our rendezvous point.”   
  
“I’m not sure whether I should be worried or glad that the red raggers know where I live.”   
  
“How else do you think I managed to find you, Inspector?” She teased him as she took the proffered basket and sashayed towards the back door.   
  
“I’ve the feeling that the less I know, the better. At least they — and you — don’t have my new address yet,” he challenged her in a half-mocking tone.   
  
“You know I always have my ways, Jack,” she informed him with a saucy look over her shoulder as he opened the door and stood back for her to exit. To his relief, there didn’t seem to be any sign of the cabbie who was no doubt waiting for her somewhere nearby.   
  
“Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately for me.”   
  
“By the way, I do hope you aren’t intending to sell that lovely desk of yours before your move, Inspector. At least, not until we’ve been able to fully and completely establish its sturdiness.”   
  
Before he could respond, she leaned against him and gave him a quick kiss good night on the cheek before vanishing into the darkness of his garden as quickly as she had previously materialized. Jack remained there in a cloud of her fragrance and still in a daze over what had just happened — and what had nearly happened.   
  
“Good night, Miss Fisher,” he spoke softly into the void.   
  
The inspector then closed and locked the door securely as he turned off all the lights. He then headed for his bed vowing then and there that he would definitely never part with that desk, and especially not in the foreseeable future.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack arrives at Wardlow on the day of the grand plan...but does it actually go to plan?

A few days later, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was experiencing a moment of deja vu as he once again found himself standing on the doorstep of a particular house in St Kilda. Similar to the last time he had arrived at Wardlow, Jack was feeling slightly off kilter, and had been in this state for the majority of the day. Unlike the previous occasion, however, he was now bedecked in his evening wear instead of one of his regular suits.

The inspector could have attributed his agitation to the fact that he had not seen Miss Fisher since her clandestine visit to his home (and their rather unforgettable albeit brief ‘interlude’ on his desk). In fact, he had not spoken to her since then either. The two detectives had agreed that in order to properly execute their plan, they needed to become more incognito. It was paramount that they put everything into motion away from the prying eyes of the press, the public, and their suspects. Even so, this was, perhaps, why Jack had found himself inwardly cursing each time his traitorous heart surged with every trill of the telephone.

At first, Jack had tried to argue the need for cutting off all their lines of communication beyond verbal messages to be delivered inconspicuously via Collins and Miss Williams. Ironically, it was Miss Fisher who had patiently outlined the merits of this aspect of the plan even though it meant having no contact between them until everything could fall into place. Apart from her concern that someone had obviously gotten hold of her personal stationery and managed to forge her handwriting, she had been quite persistent in her ongoing concerns for protecting his reputation.

“You need only give the illusion that you’ve stopped associating with me, Jack,” she had tried persuading him. “And I’ll do the same to see if we can ward off those nosey newspaper hounds.”

“It would certainly be refreshing to stop feeling like a goldfish in a bowl,” Jack had admitted. “And then we can refocus on hunting down Foyle and putting him away for good.”

“Precisely,” Miss Fisher had agreed before her determined expression had turned sultry. “Besides, don’t think you can be rid of me that easily, Inspector.”

Thus, as much as he had chafed at the thought of allowing the top brass to think they could control whom he chose to associate with or how he lived, Jack had returned to City South the next day as the pinnacle model of a senior officer of the law. Truth be told, it wasn’t that difficult to make good use of his ability to revert back to his tried and true ways of bottling up his emotions and putting in extra hours around the clock at the office. There was always much to catch up with, and due to his brief leave of absence, he attempted to channel his inner feelings by taking it out on the neverending pile of paperwork on his desk.

Admittedly, the return of his more than usual sternness combined with the notable absence of a certain lady detective’s presence at the station had squelched any outward mention about _those_ photos. Not that there had been much open speculation since the men at City South were predominantly a loyal bunch to Detective Inspector Robinson. Certainly, nearly everyone continued to wonder about the connection between their DI and the lady detective. Many were envious, and if others thought it unseemly, the fact that Miss Fisher herself was never anything but especially gracious and genuinely interested in their well-being if she encountered them outside her gate or at the station won her much favour among the City South ranks. Plus, most of them who had taken on the extra shifts to guard Miss Fisher’s home could never fault the delicious advantage of their brief tea breaks in her butler’s fine kitchen. None of that was worth risking becoming the target of Inspector Robinson’s searing stare upon his return so the others were more than grateful to have Collins continue acting as their emissary for anything urgent.

The fact that Jack had dutifully continued with his regular tasks did indeed help to mitigate any further interference from the deputy commissioner. Even so, the inspector decided to adapt some extra secure modes that he applied to his more stealthy investigative skills. It meant calling in a few favours from a select few connections he had to ensure his queries went undetected. Tonight, he would find out if any of his extra efforts would yield any fruit.

Jack flexed his shoulders slightly as the niggling sense of imbalance he’d been experiencing most of the day became augmented by the telltale sensation of being watched. Pausing as though to shed his immaculate black jacket from an invisible thread on his shoulder, the inspector glanced back briefly behind him before lifting his arm to knock on the door again. He frowned whilst momentarily wondering over the delay when the door swept open before his hand had even connected with the luxurious wood.

“Hello, Inspector!” Dot greeted him with a slightly surprised smile. “Please, come in.”

“Good evening, Miss Williams,” Jack greeted her as stepped into the entryway. “Collins said he would see you later. It would seem he was hoping to be able to enjoy a stroll with you after the gala?”

“Yes, but only when his shift ends, of course.” The maid blushed briefly before her features resumed an earnest expression. “I gather then that you didn’t get my message before you left the station?”

“Regarding?” Ignoring the sudden jump of his pulse, the inspector arched a brow with a calmness he felt threatening to ebb away. Something that happened more and more frequently since that fateful day when he had been called in to investigate the case at the Andrews residence.

“Oh, I had telephoned you with a message from Miss Phryne, Inspector,” Dot began to explain in a rush. “Mrs Stanley had telephoned about an hour ago. Miss Phryne then left in a hurry, saying it had something to do with Arthur having an unexpectedly difficult spell. So she left straight away and asked me to tell you that she would meet you at the gala instead. I had left the message with another constable as Hugh wasn’t the one who had picked up.”

“That’s unfortunate, and I hope Arthur will be all right,” Jack responded hiding his relief that Miss Fisher hadn’t rushed out after some unknown entity or lead instead. He glanced down at his wristwatch. “I’ll head straight there now unless you need more time? That is, if you would still like to accompany me even without Miss Fisher?”

“Of course, Inspector, I’d be happy to! Just let me go let Bert know that he doesn’t have to rush his dinner after all.” Dot disappeared momentarily in the direction of the kitchen just as Jane came traipsing down the stairs with a book in her hands. The young girl glanced up as her feet hit the ground floor, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hello, Inspector Robinson, it’s good to see you!”

“Hello, Jane, have you been well?”

“As well as can be, Inspector.” Her expression sobered briefly as she paused in serious consideration of his query. “Although, I think I’ll feel much better once you and Miss Phryne find out who’s been behind all these terrible newspaper allegations. I don’t like to see her so worried, especially when she thinks I don’t notice.”

“We’re doing what we can to solve this mystery soon since I don’t want her, or you, for that matter, to worry either,” Jack tried to reassure her.

“Hopefully, we’ll be able to make some headway tonight.”

“I hope so too, Inspector, because if anyone can get to the bottom of it all, I know that you both can!” Jane’s brief moment of anxiety vanished and bloomed into a radiant smile. She was unshakable in her trust in these two detectives whose kind and timely intervention in her life had ultimately changed its entire course.

Jack nodded as his mouth quirked to the side in a tiny smile at her ebullient trust just as Dot rushed back into the entryway clutching her hat and a small handbag.

“All sorted now!” She confirmed with Jack before turning to smile at the young girl. “Did you find your book all right, Jane?”

“Yes, it’s right where you thought I had left it, Dot.”

“Wonderful! Now, why don’t you go keep Bert company whilst Mr Butler finishes making dessert.”

Jane bade them both a good evening as Dot and the inspector left Wardlow. Jack climbed into the driver’s side after assisting Miss Williams into his motorcar. His mind began methodically running through everything that they had all put into place for the evening ahead until a slight scoff from his passenger drew his attention.

“It feels odd to know that people are paying so much money to go to a fancy college just to learn how to do things that I do every day,” Dot remarked after the inspector had pulled into the street. Jack looked over to see her holding the richly-embossed invitation that he had left on the seat.

“Indeed, I have no doubt that you could be one of their expert instructors, Miss Williams,” Jack replied. “Especially as part of this new department that Miss Fisher has founded.”

Dot beamed at the inspector’s confidence in her abilities as she thought of all the other invitations she had helped to write on behalf of Miss Phryne and Mrs Stanely. They had all been sent out to request the presence of a selective group of Melbourne’s finest at an exclusive cocktail gala event celebrating the opening of the newest department of the Emily McPherson College of Domestic Economy. It was to be held at the institute itself that Jack had noticed during his recent visit to his headquarters on Russell Street.

“It’s certainly wonderful how Miss Phryne has been able to sponsor a whole new department at the ladies’ college, isn’t it, Inspector?”

The morning after she and the inspector had hatched their plan, Phryne had gone to visit a friend of her aunt’s who was associated with Sir William McPherson, the Melbourne businessman who had donated £25,000 to establish the new women’s college in honour of his wife, Lady Emily. Apparently, Prudence Stanley was a key board member there, and Miss Fisher had already started having discussions with them about launching a new, avant garde course of study at the institution.

“Yes, it certainly is,” Jack replied briefly to allow his companion to carry the conversation. It didn’t take a detective to notice the fact Miss Williams had much to say about the subject.

“I mean, not just so that girls can learn how to sew, since that is very important, too,” Dot rushed on excitedly, “but also so that they can also learn how to design beautiful new styles to make!”

Since she could thread a needle, Dorothy Williams had always loved everything to do with the world of textiles, fabrics, and the creation of clothing and other items to wear. She had always found that something wonderful always happened whenever her fingers came into contact with what others would deem a simple piece of fabric. To her, the material immediately took shape inside her mind’s eye and transformed into a beautiful dress, scarf or quilt. Even though Dot knew she might not be what society deemed ‘fashionable,’ she certainly appreciated the latest design like the next woman. This desire had certainly mushroomed even more so since she came to work for Miss Fisher.

In fact, it was Dot who had first told Miss Fisher about the budding, local fashion designer named Laura Lanvin who was distantly related to the famous French designer, Jeanne Lanvin. Phryne had immediately marvelled at Miss Lanvin’s unique style ideas that had been photographed in one of Dot’s ladies’ magazines. Wanting to foster her companion’s obvious enthusiasm, Miss Fisher had surprised Dot with a surprise lunch meeting with the designer herself.

After meeting Laura who had eagerly shown the two women her portfolio of ideas to create clothing for young women who couldn’t afford haute couture modistes, Miss Fisher had grown even more impressed by the young woman’s creativity and entrepreneurial initiative. So much so that Phryne had offered to make enquiries with would-be investors as well as with the board of the women’s college. As someone with so much vision, Miss Fisher wanted to do more for other Laura Lanvins of the world by paving the way for them to be able to study and enhance their fashion designing skills so they might some day see their own ideas and designs become reality.

“Yes, Miss Fisher told me that it was a result of your meeting with Miss Lanvin that she was able to find such a strong lead to our chief suspect,” Jack acknowledged. Only Phryne would have been able to recall and recognize the design of the coat that Norma Goodwin owned. He was still impressed by the lady detective’s ability to connect that seemingly small, yet extremely significant link to their case.

“That’s right,” Dot agreed eagerly. “You know how Miss always has such an eye and memory for that level of detail. I’m also so glad that she could use this lead to persuade Mrs Stanley to recommend that the board move ahead quickly with Miss Phryne’s plans!”

Miss Fisher herself had made a sizable donation and wanted to invite others to invest in the ongoing scholarship fund towards the college’s new Department of Fashion Design for aspiring fashion designers.

“Well, we both know that those two could influence the mountains themselves to move if need be,” the inspector commented with a slight smirk, his tone filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “And will all of the intended guests be in attendance this evening?”

“Yes, in spite of the short notice, nearly everyone invited will be attending, including Miss Goodwin. I’m especially excited to be able to see Miss Lanvin again!”

Jack again nodded in response as he drove on in companionable silence. It had been a bit of a gamble that Norma Goodwin would take the bait as it were, but as usual, Miss Fisher had been right. The reporter had been one of the first to confirm her attendance at the event that would grant her access to both a viewing of Miss Lanvin’s new season’s designs, as well as give her an exclusive opportunity to cover the story about the new department at the college. Even so, the inspector still felt the underlying sense of unease from the day gnawing at his consciousness, but allowed Miss William’s innocent, yet contagious enthusiasm to keep it at bay.

Dot continued to chatter on for the duration of their short journey until they pulled into Russell Street and came into view of the Old Melbourne Gaol that now housed the ladies’ college. After they had parked and were making their way towards their destination, Jack found himself wishing that more people could view the world with Miss Williams’ unfettered delight. At the same time, he reminded himself that this was why he, and others like Phryne, continually felt compelled to find justice for those who couldn’t. It was worth it if it meant someone like his constable’s sweetheart could continue finding the joy to be held by wielding something so seemingly insignificant as a needle and piece of thread.

*-*-*

Jack slowly straightened himself from the seemingly relaxed pose he had adopted by leaning against the wall. He held a still untouched champagne glass he had only accepted so as not to appear too out of place. His other arm was tucked behind him within ready reach of his service revolver that he had hidden between the back band of his trousers. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too noticeable against the fabric of his evening jacket. Seeing how he had managed to evade the first several strains by the three-piece orchestra without being snared by one of the many bejewelled ladies mingling about, Jack was optimistic that the weapon could remain hidden without any undue alarm to an unsuspecting dance partner. This line of thought only served to make him tense again, however, as the inspector again wondered about the noticeable absence of the one lady with whom he would have been more than willing to consider experiencing the dance floor.

As though she had read his thoughts, Miss Williams floated past in the arms of an undercover Hugh Collins. Although they looked for all the world like another set of ‘Bright Young Things,’ Jack was glad to know he could depend on them to keep an eye out on their two main suspects. The couple circled back in time to the music just close enough so Jack could see Dot cast one final, discerning gaze at the small crowd before looking straight at the inspector with a distinct shake of her head. As they whirled past and disappeared into the throng, Jack glanced down again at his wristwatch and frowned. Despite her penchant for dramatic entrances, it was unlike Miss Fisher to wait this long before making her appearance.

Returning his untasted drink back onto a server’s passing tray, the inspector also noted the concerning absence of one particular reporter. He knew that Miss Goodwin was in attendance after Mrs Stanley had identified her to the inspector earlier. Unsurprisingly, the journalist had arrived on the arm of her a well-groomed Martin Edwards who seemed rather discomfited by his formal wear or the milieu, or perhaps, both. The two had been milling about on the edges of the crowd for the most part, but were now nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were somewhere in the furthest corner away from him although Jack’s instincts indicated otherwise.

The inspector looked about and spotted Miss Fisher’s aunt whom he had already greeted just after she had arrived right before the music had started. They didn’t have much chance to speak before the society matriarch had to turn her attention towards the gathering guests who had also noticed Prudence’s arrival. But it was enough for her to inform Jack that Miss Fisher had insisted her aunt go on ahead without her so she could ensure her cousin was properly soothed and settled.

“Phryne said she wouldn’t be too long behind me, Inspector, and no doubt she should arrive shortly since she has been teasing me incessantly that my chauffeur couldn’t overtake a milk cart,” Mrs Stanley had informed him in a huff without noticing how the inspector had admirably managed to hide his smirk at that familiar sentiment. “But she also has such a way with Arthur so, of course, I told her to take her time. I just hope she makes it before the speeches as she’s supposed to introduce Miss Lanvin.”

Now, Jack tried not to show his agitation as he began to edge his way back towards Mrs Stanley who had been speaking with several of her acquaintances by one of the large hall’s French doors. He slowed down and stopped next to one of the doors just as the music quieted down and the master of ceremonies stepped up to the dais towards the centre of the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is such an honour to have you present tonight to show your wonderful support for the Emily McPherson College of Domestic Economy. To start our evening, I would like to invite one of our founding fathers, Sir William McPherson, to come and impart his appreciation for your generous patronage.”

Jack used the sound of the crowd’s applause to slip through the doors at that point, glancing into empty classrooms and down darkened corridors as he made his way back towards the college’s main entrance. There was still no sign of Miss Fisher anywhere after he traced his steps and arrived at the second set of doors furthest away from the dais. At the sound of fresh applause, the inspector pushed open the door and slipped back inside the hall just as Miss Laura Lanvin was approaching the podium. Evidently, the master of ceremonies had introduced her given Phryne’s absence. Even so, the young designer began her speech that glowed with praise and gratefulness for her new patron, the Honourable ‘Mademoiselle’ Fisher. After thanking the board, her family and several others noteworthy individuals, Miss Lanvin concluded with another remark about Miss Fisher’s inspiring generosity and love for fine fashion without which her dreams of seeing her designs become reality would never have happened.

It only took that split second before the fashion designer finished her talk and the roar of applause thundered throughout the hall when Jack felt a set of intense eyes boring into him from across the room. He glanced about until his own eyes registered the features of Norma Goodwin, which flickered through a range of emotions from disgust to smugness. Ultimately, it was the woman’s secretive sneer, however, that instantly triggered Jack’s sense of alarm. His pulsed thumped into a noisy staccato that clashed with the ongoing cheers and applause from the crowd as Mrs Stanley made her way to the stage on behalf of her niece.

Phryne was still nowhere to be seen.

Jack quickly backed towards the doors he had just entered, nearly colliding with Collins who had quickly edged towards his senior officer during the crowd’s enthusiastic clapping.

“Stay here with Miss Williams and keep an eye on the crowd, Collins,” he instructed. “I’m going to search the old holding cells downstairs. Come look for me if Miss Fisher shows up or I’m not back within a quarter of an hour.”

Hoping his instincts might be wrong, the inspector slipped back out into the corridor and sped up into a full sprint towards the main staircase. Still seeing no one about, he rushed towards the downward set of steps until he approached the last door at the bottom. Cursing out loud when he found it locked, Jack backed away and then ran towards it again with an almighty kick that only served to vibrate the steel (it had been the door to the former gaol cells after all, dammit!) and to issue him with a piercing pain up that jarred his knee. Rubbing it slightly, he then stepped right up to the door to listen carefully, and when he was satisfied no one was on the other side, the inspector whipped out his revolver, aimed it and blasted a shot straight through the lock. Slamming the door aside, he found himself racing blindly down a dark corridor that led to the former cells and now consisted mainly of storage spaces for the college supplies and other paraphernalia. The first few cells didn’t hold anything significant, and he was just reaching a section that had been built up into actual rooms with proper doors when an unmistakable voice echoed out towards him.

“I suggest you heed my advice immediately, Mr Edwards, or you’ll find yourself riddled with more than one bullet hole.”

At the sound of her voice, Jack immediately slowed his steps and crept towards the end room where he had heard her.

“That’s not likely considering not much else could fit inside that damn, toy gun of yours,” came the mocking retort.

“I’m happy to demonstrate just how wrong you are,” she warned him in a steely tone. “Now, put down _your_ gun!”

Jack crouched low and peered around the edge of the door frame whilst holding his breath. He was hidden from view by the door itself, which was propped open by a large filing cabinet that looked like it had been pulled from the wall at an odd angle. From his vantage point, he could sense that Miss Fisher was nearby, most likely keeping her pearl-handled weapon trained on what looked to be a heavily sweating Martin Edwards who was standing behind an old desk at the front of the room. Edwards, in turn, was pointing what looked to be a .38 ‘Detective Special’ Colt revolver towards Phryne. Introduced in 1927, Jack recognized it as a snub-nosed, double-action, short-barrelled gun favoured by many plainclothes police detectives due to its portable and concealable size. The fact this former police officer and prison guard was in possession of one certainly flagged more alarms, which Jack immediately pushed aside to examine later so he could focus on the matter at hand.

“I was warned about you!” the man spat out as he began to edge around the desk. “Well, it won’t matter for long anyway, for both you and your do gooder copper.”

“You leave him out of this!” Phryne shot back, her voice laced with warning. “Now, put the gun down.”

Before Edwards could respond to Miss Fisher’s command, another angry voice burst into the room just as a sudden blur materialized inside the room hefting aloft the train of her glittering evening dress. Jack immediately took note of the fact that Norma Goodwin had not arrived the same way he did or he would have heard her, just spotting the hidden door on the other side of the room swing shut. He began to silently inch his way back out into the corridor to see if he could find a way to access it, the echoes of the stormy confrontation reflecting around the empty spaces and former cells.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing, Martin? I told you to detain her when she showed up, not stage a bloody show down!”

“Easy for you to say since you’re always leaving me to do the dirty work,” Edwards retorted. “Besides how was I to know she would be armed?”

“Because you’re a bloody imbecile when it comes to women, idiot!” Norma sneered at him before turning to pierce Phryne with a poisonous glare. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, she’s here now even if she’s still ruining everything!”

“We need her pet policeman as well,” Edwards reminded her petulantly. “Stick to the bloody plan, Norma!”

“I noticed him disappearing from the hall, which is why I came down to check on things as, no doubt, the lovesick inspector will grace us with his presence shortly,” Norma speculated whilst ignoring Edwards’ tone. She then returned her attention to the lady detective. “But no matter, plans always change, especially where a fickle man is involved! But, they all have their uses, as _you_ of all people can certainly attest to.”

“It’s over, Norma,” Phryne interrupted her. “Your little vendetta ends now.”

“May I gently remind you that you’re currently outnumbered, Miss Fisher, so that means I’m in charge and require you to relinquish your gun. You won’t be needing it any longer where you’re going.”

“And just exactly where would that be?” Phryne enquired in a deadly calm tone. “I think you should start concerning yourself with where you’ll be heading after the police, my solicitors and I are finished unmasking you.”

“Always think you can walk away with what you want, don’t you? Well, if I can’t ruin you, I can certainly ruin your precious inspector’s life,” Norma hissed, then marched the rest of the way towards her partner when Miss Fisher remained silent without moving an inch. “Just bloody shoot her, Martin!”

“That’s not the plan, and you know it!” Edwards resisted. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s got hers pointed at us too, you stupid woman!”

“No wonder you failed so spectacularly at being a copper yourself! Look, just shoot her and then we can pin it on her straight-laced inspector who gave in to a ‘pique of jealous rage upon discovering his lady love down here with another man.’”

“This ain’t just one of your bloody headlines anymore, Norma!” Martin angled his gun, aiming it between both Miss Fisher and the other woman. “‘Sides, I’ve only been putting up with your stupid scheme because it made me some extra dosh and fit into _my_ own agenda anyway.”

“How dare you turn on me?” Norma screeched at him in anger. “You’d be nothing if it weren’t for me! Now shoot her, or I will!”

“Shut your trap, I’ve had enough of your domineering ways!” He threatened back, swinging his revolver between the two women agitatedly as Norma reached for her handbag.

Suddenly, the blast from a gunshot followed by another rippled through the tiny enclosure, cutting off Norma’s threats and stinging everyone's ears just as the room plunged into complete darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I've been able to get this next chapter crafted, reviewed and now posted after what's been another few intensive weeks of juggling family, career, and putting up with a broken down car off a motorway on one of the busiest roundabouts in our region on the hottest day of the year.
> 
> Huge thanks to the lovely @disheveledcurls and @comeaftermejackrobinson for editing and reviewing!
> 
> Also, I wanted to point out that the historical information about Sir William McPherson establishing the Emily McPherson College of Domestic Economy is true along with the details I researched about Martin Edwards' ['Detective Special'](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colt_Detective_Special) gun that will make sense once Phrack finally solve this case (hopefully in the next and final chapter)!
> 
> Finally, thank you for still sticking with this story and all of your wonderful comments!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detectives nab their suspects before weaving together the threads of this latest mystery (with carrot cake and a semi-disrobed Jack).

Suffocating silence smothered him, cutting off his breathing, and threatening to obliterate his consciousness by dragging him back into that cavern of hell where his mind convinced him he was back in the trenches. It rarely, if ever, happened these days, and hadn’t for several years now except when he found himself in a situation that could trigger the memories that he had eventually learned to process and keep at bay after returning home following the war. Breathing in as deeply as possible through his nose, Jack blinked in the darkness as the aftermath of adrenaline and pain screamed throughout his body and then acidic fear hammered throughout this mind as he registered the pungent odour of gunpowder and sickly scent of blood permeating the atmosphere.

“Phh-ryne!” He managed to rasp out into the void, fighting to control his alarm by silently counting to three before blowing it out through his mouth. “Miss Fisher?”

“Jack! Where are you?” In spite of the panic laced throughout her tone, the sound of her voice immediately filled him with a sense of peace and calm before his own concern again surged when he wondered if she had been hurt.

“I’m right here, Miss Fisher,” he replied more loudly. “And you? Are you hurt?”

Jack instantly sprang upright at the sound of someone groaning in pain beneath him, jolting him to his senses as he scrambled to remove his weight off of her. As his ears stopped ringing, he then heard a rustling noise followed by cursing and more moaning from another quarter of the room. The crunch of broken glass cut through the other noises just before the hiss of a sudden flame burst forth, emitting a soft circle of light.

“I’m fine Jack,” came Phryne’s welcome response, “how about you?”

Jack let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as her pale face materialized within the aura of the lighter’s flame she held aloft. As his eyes quickly adjusted, he could make out her other arm gripping her gun that was still aimed in the direction of where he presumed Edwards had been previously standing.

“I seem to be in much better condition than Miss Goodwin seems to be.”

He indicated towards the still unconscious form he was crouching next to, the sight of which spurred Phryne over towards them. She quickly passed her weapon to Jack who stood up and immediately took over guarding Edwards as Miss Fisher knelt to check on Norma.

“Serves her right for double-crossing me,” Edwards muttered from the gloom before cursing in pain. “Stop wasting your time with her and call me a bloody ambulance!” 

Before either of the detectives could respond, the sound of a crashing door followed by rushing footsteps echoed from further down the corridor. The sudden flood of lights illuminating the hallway blinded the occupants of the small room just as Constable Collins rushed inside past the filing cabinet with his gun aloft.

 “Police!” He cried, halting himself before he could trip over the incumbent form of Miss Goodwin where Phryne was still examining her. “Ah, good to see you, Miss, and, Sir! And that you’ve got the situation under control!”

 Dot then peered around the corner of the door frame, rushing over to her mistress’ side soon as she spotted her on the floor, the young woman’s face clouded in concern.

“Collins, take Mr Edwards here into custody,” the inspector instructed with a tilt of his head towards the other man who was still sitting on the floor cradling his sprained hand. “And call an ambulance for Miss Goodwin. 

“Yes, sir!”

As Hugh assisted Jack with securing Edwards and his weapon, the women turned Norma onto her back after Phryne had established that the reporter was not in dire danger and had simply passed out from a concussion. Judging from the growing bruise along her forehead and the angle where she had landed when Jack had pushed her away from Edwards’ aim, it would seem she had struck her head along the corner of the desk. A cursory glance through Miss Goodwin’s handbag had revealed a small pistol and a handful of pens, which the maid felt would not make the most comforting makeshift pillow. Dot used her own handbag to cushion the still unconscious woman’s head before handing Norma’s handbag and its dangerous contents to Phryne.

“I’ve always known you could knock a woman off her feet, Jack,” Miss Fisher informed him with a saucy grin as he approached to help her to her feet. “I just never assumed you’d be this thorough at it.”

“All in the line of duty, Miss Fisher,” he quipped as she reached up to brush some broken elements of the shattered light bulb from his shoulder and gently ran her finger through his hair to check for any cuts. “Will she be all right?”

“Yes, I believe so, but best to have a current medical expert examine her all the same. At least he never got the chance to shoot her.”

“Or you!” He also gave in to the need to touch her as his earlier fear briefly flared, reaching out to gently cup the side of her face. “Things could have gone quite differently, Phryne.”

“You know we wouldn’t have let that happen, Jack,” she scolded him soothingly, satisfied that he seemed for the most part uninjured. “Taking out the light fixture was brilliant, by the way!”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement before lifting his eyebrows to match his questioning tone. “How did you end up down here anyway?”

“Just as arrived, I saw Edwards sneaking out of the main hall and looking extremely suspicious when he unlocked a neatly hidden door. So naturally, I just had to follow him and it led right down here. He then tried to apprehend and detain me in a cell, most likely in hopes of luring you down here eventually, Jack.”

“Hmm,” Jack responded before turning towards the other man. “What were you doing down here, Mr Edwards?”

“I imagine they were hoping to say that they ‘caught us in the act’ or some such nonsense and alert everyone upstairs in an attempt to truly ruin both of us,” Phryne surmised, not bothering to hide a disgusted glare at Norma. “Who knew she would be desperate enough to resort to actual murder and attempt to pin it on an upstanding officer of the law.”

“I should have just shot you when I had the chance,” Edwards growled as Hugh hauled him to his feet after cuffing him.

“Believe me, the feeling is utterly mutual,” Phryne resounded as she whirled about as Hugh began to escort the cursing man out of the room. “I’m beginning to regret the fact that I’m too excellent of a shot!”

“I think you’ve at least ensured that he won’t be picking up anything, let alone a gun, for the foreseeable future, Miss Fisher,” Jack observed out loud.

“And now you can ensure he won’t be going anywhere outside a jail cell for the foreseeable future,” Phryne conceded just as they heard the sound of Prudence’s shrill voice floating down the corridor. “I should go make sure Aunt P and our guests are all right.”

“Will you be all right to remain here with Miss Goodwin until I can go telephone the incident to Russell Street, Miss Williams?” Jack looked over towards Dot before moving back to the reporter’s idle form. He then removed his hidden iron derbys to bound her hands together. “Once the ambulance arrives, I’ll then need to accompany her to hospital until I can arrange for someone to come stand guard there.”

“Of course, Inspector,” Dot quickly agreed. “You should go back up to the hall, Miss, I’ll be fine here until the inspector returns or the paramedics come down.” 

Bidding her companion a temporary farewell, Phryne immediately looped her arm through Jack’s as they made their way back down the musky hallway in the direction that Jack had taken. 

“What else are you keeping hidden beneath your fine evening wear, Inspector?” She asked innocently, reaching over to run her free hand down his jacket possessively. “Since I was cheated out of a proper evening to admire you in it, I absolutely insist you come over for a nightcap so I can enjoy it on you for as long as I can.”

Their eyes locked as the atmosphere between them again suddenly charged with unvoiced intent and untold promises.

“I believe that could be arranged,Miss Fisher,” Jack agreed, reaching up to adjust his suddenly tight collar a little. “For the nightcap, I mean.”

“Until then, Inspector.” Phryne smiled knowingly as she regretfully let go of his arm and jacket. They had reached the top of the stairs where they were met by an extremely worried Prudence Stanley.

 

*-*-*

 

The sound of the rain played a methodical melody against the window panes, nearing lulling Phryne to sleep as she nestled into the deep cushion of her window seat. She rested her chin on the top of her knees that were drawn up against her chest. In her hands, she toyed with the empty glass dangling from her fingers as the evening’s minutes steadily seeped away. The house was silent as nearly everyone within had retreated for the night. But still, she remained, sifting through the events of the evening that swirled and ebbed in and out of her mind like the water pooling against the front steps outside.

Although they had been able to more than confirm their suspects’ involvement in the mysterious headlines, the lady detective felt far from triumphant. Of course, there was the satisfaction that came with knowing Martin Edwards and Norma Goodwin were now long-term recipients of Melbourne’s finest constabulary custody. Based on their treacherous words and actions at the college alone, neither would be experiencing life outside of jail for quite a long time.

Even so, Phryne knew that she and Jack wouldn’t be satisfied until they were able to unravel the answers to the remaining questions behind the couple’s motivations. Or the fact that newer questions kept springing forth like unwanted weeds as soon as others were nipped in the bud. For example, who else had assisted them in their efforts to implicate her? There was still too many unknowns cluttering her mind. At least the lady detective was able to admit to herself now that the quest for discovery had been taking more of a toll on her than she had expected, especially due to the nature of the similar links between herself and Norma. Thus, in the same way she recalled poking at barely healed scabs as a child, Phryne continued to ruminate on the latest intel that Dot had managed to sleuth out.

Apparently, the reporter had revived not too long after the detectives had left Dot behind with her charge. The woman had instantly recognized Miss Fisher’s maid and began cursing and spewing her rage upon discovering her plans had been ‘ruined by that despicable woman.’ Loyal as ever, Dot had instantly defended her miss, even pointing out to the other woman that she could have been shot or worse if it hadn’t been for Miss Fisher. Norma had then apparently declared that she would have preferred the latter because it would have been preferable to being beholden to someone she so despised.

“Were you able to assess any clues that might explain her motives, Dot?” Phryne had queried her maid as they drove home.

“Actually, yes, Miss,” her faithful companion had eagerly told her. “I asked her outright what she had against you, and how she could print such nasty and false information about you… and the inspector. That she had no right to do that because none of it was true.”

From what Dot had been able to draw out from the agitated woman, several more pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. Tragically, Dot’s words revealed the putrid portrait of someone who had allowed so much of her past heartache to fester until she had become a victim to it. And the only way she could cope was to research and capture the terrible things that happened to others. The illusion of control that this gave her led her to start unearthing, and even inventing the type of dirt about others that was close enough to the truth to sell newspaper headlines.

“She told me that if you have money, you can get away with everything,” Dot had continued, “and for some reason, she really felt this about you, Miss, and nearly everyone who was rich or privileged. It’s really sad to think about, but I remembered what you told me about her family and, and whether this was where her resentment started.”

Phryne had agreed with her companion’s avid assessment ~~,~~ and she thought about it again now. Shaking her head, she circled back to the one missing link: what was Norma’s connection to Martin Edwards? And did the reporter have one to Murdoch Foyle? She closed her eyes in frustration just as a distinct tapping suddenly broke through the steady rhythm of the rain and Phryne’s thoughts. The sound immediately sent a burst of joy throughout her being that propelled her towards her front door before the noise could reach Mr Butler’s impeccable hearing.

“Jack!” She greeted him happily, instantly charmed by his bedraggled appearance as she reached out to pull him inside. “Come in and get out of those wet things before you catch cold.”

“But that would then defeat your wish to admire my evening wear for as long as you could,” he reminded her cheekily with a quirk to his lips as she helped to divest him of his outerwear.

“Well, it would seem that Mother Nature has seen fit to grant me what I _truly_ meant,” she confided with unmistakable emphasis to her meaning, just barely brushing her lips close to his ear. As she turned away with his dripping coat, Jack was glad she couldn’t see how the effects of her words and actions quickly dissipated the cold still clinging to his body. Just as they arrived on the threshold of Mr Butler’s pristine domain, the man himself appeared before them, as affable and efficient as ever despite the fact he wore his evening robe in place of his customary suit.

“You just leave that to me, Miss Fisher,” he said, stepping forward to retrieve the inspector’s sodden coat. “I’m happy to take your evening jacket as well, sir, before the damp ruins it. And, would you both like some tea and perhaps a slice or two of carrot cake? I made two considering Mr Johnson was dining with us earlier.”

“That sounds lovely, Mr B! Although, if you could please look after the inspector’s things so they dry properly,” Phryne instructed him, “I’m perfectly happy to take care of the rest.”

“Of course, Miss,” he agreed. “It’s good to see you, Inspector, I’ll take care of your coat and jacket straight away.”

“Er, thank you, Mr Butler, but you really don’t need to trouble yourself,” Jack reassured the man who had already disappeared before the inspector could finish protesting.

The sound of objects clinking and clanking returned Jack’s attention to the kitchen where he watched in fascination at seeing the Honourable Phryne Fisher buzzing about with the tea things. A keen sense of deja vu invaded him as the recent memory of her taking over his kitchen only a few nights ago mixed with the current scene of her gesturing towards the table. He quickly blocked the direction of where that memory was vividly about to lead, but it was difficult when he glanced down at the sturdy wooden surface.

“I wasn’t sure if you would still come tonight,” Phryne commented casually, although her eyes betrayed her avid interest at his discomposure. The wicked woman then openly smouldered at him when she couldn’t help noticing the way his waistcoat hugged his trim torso and displayed his usually hidden arms to full effect. Willing himself not to blush again, Jack swallowed a mouthful of cake, a slightly sheepish expression marking his features as he looked up at her. Phryne leaned over with a small smile to wipe off a smear of icing from the corner of his lips, relishing the fact that he looked for all the world like he had just been caught in the middle of something he shouldn’t have been indulging in.

“I almost didn’t as I was afraid it would be too late,” he admitted, quickly commandeering the napkin she suddenly produced. He leaned back and slightly away from her, shielding himself behind the cup and saucer he took up after stirring in a few extra lumps of sugar for added fortification.

“I’m glad you did,” she reassured him, pouring herself a steaming cup of tea and uncharacteristically accepting his sudden demarcation for some space.

Sensing he was experiencing something deeper than he might be ready to share with her, Phryne tactfully changed the subject and filled him in on Dot’s discoveries regarding Norma Goodwin’s side of the story. She watched Jack carefully as she spoke, recalling the earlier anxiety that she herself had felt down in the former cell just after Jack had shot at the light and they were all engulfed into the oppressive darkness. As someone who was more than familiar with all manner of spectres that the dark could unleash she wagered that their recent showdown may have stirred up some buried ghosts for her normally unflappable partner as well. She also noted that the dark cloud he had carried in with him initially had somehow dissipated as she concluded Norma’s revelations. Jack immediately abandoned his second slice of cake to lean forward and touch her hand in concern just as she finished speaking.

“Phryne, remember that you are not at all responsible for anything that woman thinks about you or accuses you of,” he assured her again staunchly. “What you’ve just told me corroborates much of what Collins and I were able to glean from Edwards’ confession tonight. It’s always illuminating what someone will spill when the possibility of becoming an ‘accessory to murder’ looms imminently.”

According to Jack, Edwards had admitted to ‘picking up a few things’ from his connections with Senior Sergeant Grossmith, which he was all too eager to tell the inspector in attempts to reduce any possible charges laid against him. This revealed a key piece of the puzzle, namely, the incriminating letter that Foyle had left behind before he had disappeared with Matthew Tizzard in their elaborate escape. In fact, Grossmith had instructed Edwards to pocket anything from the two prisoners’ cells before they could be searched, promising him that he’d be ‘protected and taken care of’ if he did so. And so, Edwards had hid the evidence, especially after Grossmith had been arrested. No point in drawing any undue attention towards himself after all. Edwards then waited for the right opportunity, which came along via an anonymously typed letter he had received instructing him to sell the information he had to the press ‘at the right moment.’

“Hmm, let me guess, this was about the time when he was first approached by a certain reporter?” Phryne stated, more than enquired since it didn’t really take much of their deductive skills to work out this seeming coincidence.

“True enough,” Jack conceded, “but the letter wasn’t from Miss Goodwin apparently. And though I tried to question him again about it later, he really didn’t seem to know who had sent it to him. Just that it seemed to be from someone who had been in touch with Grossmith previously.” He squeezed Phryne’s hand sympathetically as she creased her brow in frustration at yet another unanswered question before resuming.

Alongside her newfound career, Edwards had informed Jack that Norma had become obsessed with the stories she had unearthed from archives about her sister’s disappearance. She had told him how she had even learned what she could about the other families linked similarly to her sister’s disappearance. Thus, it hadn’t taken her long to discover the multiple headlines about Lord and Lady Fisher who had eventually moved to England to their ‘happily ever after.’ As a result, Norma had been one of the first to to catch wind of the news surrounding the return of ‘Melbourne’s own’ celebrated socialite to the Antipodes. Given the reporter’s well-placed network of sources, she had also been the first reporter to publish the story about the Honourable Phryne Fisher’s petition to keep Murdoch Foyle behind bars for as long as possible.

“Edwards claimed that Miss Goodwin had become rather obsessed with you,” Jack told her, “although he didn’t pay much attention at first. Apparently, she had filled up journals and scrapbooks with newspaper clippings about you even.”

Nobody else seemed to be aware of the reporter’s personal interest in the high-profiled criminal, except for Martin Edwards, with whom Miss Goodwin had begun to forge a close relationship during her many visits to the jail. Initially, Edwards was only too happy to welcome the advances of the attractive woman and her ‘sob story’ about her missing sister. He readily accepted her reasons for trying to gain access to the prisoner after her requests to visit Foyle had been repeatedly denied by the prison warden. Unfortunately, even Edwards was unable to break protocol even for this beguiling woman, and he promised to keep her informed about everything to do with the prisoner although there was not much to report at first. He recalled a major argument the two of them had when Norma had become angry about the fact that Phryne had been granted what she could not obtain: visitation rights to Foyle.

“And this was what ignited the fuel of her obsessive vendetta against me,” Phryne commented with feeling, as Jack nodded before continuing.

Norma had made use of her personal mistrust and bitterness against the police whom she held responsible for never discovering what happened to her sister. She also knew that there was no love lost between Edwards and the police, and had used her background knowledge of his former time on the New South Wales force to further convince him to help her. Fool that he was, Edwards had been all too happy to make himself look like a hero in his new lady love’s eyes whilst simultaneously lining his pockets. After being paid handsomely for selling Foyle’s letter to Norma for her first targeted story against the Honourable Phryne Fisher, Edwards readily agreed to begin following and reporting the socialite’s comings and goings to the reporter. Used to working unsociable hours, Edwards took a leave of absence and began to watch Wardlow around the clock. Sometimes, he said that Norma would join him with her camera to take photos since she said they helped to sell more newspapers, which meant, more money.

“Did he know anything about the letter that was forged on my personal stationery?”

Jack shook his head. “Edwards swore he had nothing to do with it since he only ever watched and followed you and the household. He claims he never made it close enough to the house to attempt to steal anything. I’m glad that my constables were able to at least prevent that.”

Apparently, however, all was not peaceful in paradise. After Norma had published the story with Phryne’s supposed letter and then posted it anonymously along with the subsequent letter Edwards had stolen to the police, Edwards had begun to suspect the reporter had been hiding something from him. He had then sought her out to demand why she had been withholding information from him, only to discover that she had gone away. He had grown angry that she had decided to do her own reconnaissance without him, effectively cutting him out of their agreement without discussion.

“No, Phryne, don’t start,” Jack warned her, stopping his report to again grip her hand that he still held. “Do _not_ let that woman’s actions take away from your decision to go to Warburton.”

“But, if I hadn’t gone, then she wouldn’t have been able to photograph us together, Jack,” she tried to interrupt.

“Photos that will soon enough be in police custody.”

“But the ones she published will always be out there for the whole world to see, Jack.”

“Knowing you, Miss Fisher, there will soon be others that will again have the world raising its eyebrows and forgetting I even exist.” His mouth quirked into his familiar nudge of a smile as he attempted to make light of the situation. Then, he returned to the matter at hand when he saw her open her mouth again to protest.

“Anyway, we have more than enough information courtesy of Edwards who swears that he had only decided to go along with Norma’s entrapment plan tonight for the money. Oh, he also let it slip that he was being funded by another source who seemed to promise him a lot if he could further discredit the force.”

“By destroying the constabulary’s most honourable officer? I really should have shot him when I had the chance,” she growled protectively.

Jack sent her a mixed grateful and exasperated look whilst wisely returning the subject to the mysterious letter.

“I’ve already called in a favour from someone I know who developed a specialism in handwriting analysis during the war. Given his expertise and credentials, we should have enough back from him any day now to prove that your supposed response letter was definitely forged.”

Phryne simply shook her head in wonder at this man’s never ending surprises.

“That’s brilliant, Jack! I’ll notify my solicitors first thing tomorrow.”

“I’ll also be taking Miss Goodwin’s official statement and confession once she’s released from hospital in the morning. See if I can find out more about where she got it. Either way, we have more than enough evidence based on tonight’s murder attempt alone to keep her in custody for a very long time as we continue to investigate.”

Phryne grew pensive as she took in Jack’s revelations. Even with more of the holes filling in, she still felt a heaviness deep down inside upon learning more about Norma Goodwin’s vindictiveness. Again, she couldn’t help feeling the magnitude of the other woman’s similarities, and sorrow that she had chosen to throw it all away in the end for her own misdirected sense of vengeance.

“Well, it must indeed be getting late if you’ve not managed to get another word in edgewise.” Jack watched her quietly, finishing his tea before he began to push back his chair. “On that note, I should perhaps be going.”

Phryne suddenly found her voice again, gripping his hand even as he rose to his feet so that he ended up pulling her up with him.

“But, there are still so many unanswered questions,” she said in frustration.

“‘Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer,’” he quoted, pressing her hand in understanding.

“I didn’t know you’ve read Rilke, Jack,” she smiled approvingly when she recognized the poet’s newly-published letters. “I would have thought him too ‘bohemian’ for your liking.”

“I think you’ll be pleased to find I have a liking for a variety of tastes, Miss Fisher,” he responded mysteriously as she tucked her hand into his arm and led him out of the room.

“Your coat and jacket won’t be dry yet,” she remarked unnecessarily when they reached the entryway and he began glancing about. “Are you sure you don’t want a nightcap?”

“No, thank you, the tea and cake were more than expected. I’ll return for my things first thing tomorrow before I head to the station,” he promised. “For now, I’m certain I can manage to wade to the motorcar without them.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Her voice retained a slight edge of uncertainty as she traced the top buttons of his waistcoat.

“For what, Miss Fisher?”

“For once again going above and beyond what’s expected of you.” Reaching out to play with his now drooping bow tie, her voice held no coyness or any trace of her usual flirtation when she looked into his eyes. “You always do. And I want you to know how much it means to me because we both know it’s not part of your job to always be there for me.”

“Perhaps that might not be a requirement of my job, Miss Fisher,” he acquiesced, remaining still, yet finding himself suddenly standing even closer to her. “But, it will always certainly be part of who I am.”

“And what’s that?” She inched infinitesimally closer. “A knight in soggy armour?”

“No, I think I’m more like a mirror, Miss Fisher.” His eyes grew serious, although she could still detect a minute twinkle of amusement resulting from her comment.

“To remind me that I’m the ‘fairest of them all’?”

“To reflect back what you might sometimes be in danger of forgetting,” he replied cryptically as she lifted an eyebrow expectantly. “And to always remind you to be nobody other than yourself.”

She remained by the door a few minutes longer, a hand covering her cheek as though to protect the feeling of his parting caress, until the darkness and raging elements hid him from her view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me to the finish line of this story that I really enjoyed exploring. Like most things in life, I felt it right to leave Phryne feeling the ambiguity of the extra questions that the end of this mystery brought with it. 
> 
> It also felt right for Jack to reassure her by quoting one of my favourite passages from Rainer Maria Rilke’s ‘ _Letters to a Young Poet_ ’ even though these particular letters weren’t actually published by Franz Xaver Kappus (the ‘young poet’) until 1929 after Rilke’s death:
> 
> _“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”_
> 
> Don’t worry, it’s not over quite yet, and just for your patience, I’ll be posting the epilogue immediately after this. 
> 
> Finally, massive hugs to the treasure that is @flashofthefuse for taking the time to beta these final chapters for me! You are an angel!


	14. Epilogue

Sunlight and a fresh breeze from a slightly opened window greeted Phryne as she sat up in her bed, feeling more rested than she had in a long while. The inviting aroma of toast wafted over to claim her attention on the break tray where she noticed several items propped on her breakfast tray.

She immediately picked up the first, the morning’s newspaper, that was already opened to a particular page. Curious, she began to read the the article that had been marked for her attention:

 

_**TO THE EDITOR OF THE ARGUS** _

_Sir,_

_As a regular subscriber and officer of the law, I have been appalled by the assumptive nature of your staff’s reporting abilities of late, especially with regards to recent coverage about police matters. Alongside balancing that fine line bordering on defamation, I fear your approach could also have damaging effects to more than just public trust._

_What I am referring to is the invisible destruction of one’s sense of self, which I hold to be one of the most significant compasses of all. Knowing oneself is crucial, but fighting to be and stay oneself is paramount. I urge your staff and readers to always be on the search for justice, but most of all for truth in spite of whatever you might report or read._

_I conclude with the words of the inimitable Miss Austen, whose talent with words shall always far surpass my own:_

_‘It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.’_

_Yours, &., _

_**J. ROBINSON** _

_North Richmond, Dec 18, 1928_

 

Next to the newspaper sat a package contained in a heavy brown envelope. Phryne eagerly opened it, a smile lighting up her countenance as she recognized the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that she had been holding and reading to Jack on the deck of his fishing hut. Had it really only been a few days ago? This time, she closed her eyes when she held the tome up and breathed in the lingering scent of its owner that brought back delicious memories of being curled up around him. Her nose also bumped against the edge of something soft and white sticking out from the edge of the pages, which she immediately fished out.

It was a smaller envelope that she eagerly opened to reveal a single sheet of Jack’s writing stationery and an intricately embroidered coaster that she recognized from the tea shop:

 

_Dear Miss Fisher,_

_I hereby enclose a little souvenir, or two, for you from our recent holiday excursion._

_As for the second, I leave it your discretion whether or not to reveal it to the persons who could assist in completing the gift (of which I sincerely hope to indulge if it comes to fruition)._

_Yours,_

_Jack_

 

Delighted by the cryptic message, Phryne carefully extricated the beautifully embroidered piece of exquisite craftsmanship from the envelope when she noticed another small envelope still tucked securely inside the leaves of the book. She burst out with a peal of laughter after she had unfolded the piece of paper to discover a hastily inscribed recipe entitled, 'Mrs Hickson’s Apple Tart, Teacup and Teapots Tearoom, Warburton.’ Already more than touched by his lovely gestures, her heart gave an unexpected tug when she glanced back down at the book and noticed the following sentence underlined within:

_“I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve.”_

“Oh, Jack,” she breathed out fondly at the unexpected discoveries that this dear man was capable of surprising her with when her reverie was interrupted by the knock on her door.

“Good morning, Dot, thank you for this lovely spread...and bringing up the inspector’s gifts. Is he still here?”

“No, Miss, he was unable to stay for as he was needed at the station right away because he had asked Hugh to escort Miss Goodwin there for questioning. She was released from hospital this morning. I gave him his things, but he didn’t want me to wake you, Miss,” Dot continued.

“Thank you for doing that, Dot.” Phryne quickly finished a slice of toast. “No matter, perhaps we can take him and Hugh a basket for lunch instead.” She broke off her sentence at the sight of Jane appearing at the doorway wearing a solemn expression that disturbed her normally sunny features.

“Morning, Miss Phryne,” her ward greeted her. “Bert has just returned from picking up Cec and Alice.”

“Excellent, I hope they had a wonderful time!” Phryne responded as she jumped out of her bed, slowing down and when she noticed her foster daughter’s subdued behaviour. “Is everything all right, Jane?”

“I don’t think so, Miss. They’ve discovered something from the back of the cab that we think you need to see right away.”

“Albert's Antiques and Curiosities. 18 Somers Street, Abbotsford,” Phryne read out the name and address from the matchbook that Jane had passed her, her facing draining of colour.

“Miss? What is it?” Jane took her hand as Dot whirled back around, scattering one of the outfits from the armload she held in her concern.

“Foyle had an antique shop before he went to prison. It's a different name, same address.” Phryne leaned over to pick up the black and white blouse and began pulling it over her head.

“I’m coming with you,” Dot immediately confirmed as she hurriedly produced the rest of the ensemble.

“Jane, you stay here with Mr Butler, Bert and Cec,” Phryne instructed. ““Telephone Inspector Robinson, please, Dot. Ask him to meet us there.”

As the girls scrambled to comply, Phryne quickly sat down in front of her vanity to finish her morning toilette, when her hand brushed against her jewellery case. Pausing to lift the lid, she stopped to touch the two, pale blue ribbons tucked securely inside.

“We’re going to find you soon, Janey,” she vowed vehemently, before standing to retrieve her gun from her bedside drawer. “And we’re going to bring you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overjoyed upon discovering this link to actual ‘Letters to the Editor of the Argus’ published in 1928 that you can also enjoy reading [here](https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/3910172/462135). They provided the inspiration and formatting for Jack’s letter in this chapter. 
> 
> Also I would be more than remiss for not thanking @FoxSpirit for her incredible timeline research that has been invaluable for my attempts to maintain chronological and canonical accuracy for this story. Massive hugs to you, Foxy, for providing this amazing tool to us writers!
> 
> Finally, big Phryne forehead kisses to you all for your amazing support and comments that always brighten my day! It’s been such a joy to share my love for these characters with you!


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